I've heard and uttered lots of prayers in my life of all different persuasions and types. From bold and loud to soft and sweet. From a child's disconnected thoughts about their turtle and goldfish to polished oratory speeches by the wordy and overly verbose. But my favorite ones of all are the simple, honest ones. Prayers that dare to shed the pretense of religious participation in favor of humble vulnerability before the Father of Lights.

That's what Psalm 13 give us; permission to be honest with God.

This is a short, but intense Psalm. David doesn't clean up his language or soften his words. He doesn't offer platitudes or make believe he is OK. Four times in this tiny passage he asks, "How long?"; the cry of someone who feels stuck, trapped in between the God's piercing silence and the thunder of our present pain.

What I love about this Psalm is David's honesty. And it isn't unbelief. It's a son laying bear his heart to His loving Father. This sort of prayer can only exist where there lives a deep and rooted trust in the hearer. It's raw and powerful. People who have already given up do not pray like this. People with no hope can't bring themselves to argue with heaven. David isn't deconstructing or walking away, he's leaning in. He may be trembling, but he is pulling near.

This is the intersection between God's grief and ours. He grieves because He knows the destruction evil and rebellion will bring. We grieve because, as image-bearers, we know deep inside life isn't going as it should. We know it isn't supposed to be fractured this way. Lament isn't the opposite of faith, or even weakened faith. Lament is faith refusing to lie about how it feels to suffer.

But I'm thankful Psalm 13 doesn't end in the dark night of the soul. The circumstances don't suddenly change. Nothing was "decreed or declared" into existence or rebuked back into line. The night begins to dawn into day because David chose to anchor himself in something bigger than his circumstances. He anchored his soul in the very character of God Himself. I love the phrase, "But I have trusted in your faithful love."

Faithful Love, from the Hebrew root hesed drips with the language of covenant. It's the same word you will find Moses using to describe God's deliverance from Egypt. The same word used of God at Sanai when Moses received the tablets. It is a loyal love ... a love that doesn't let go when the world is shaking.

We have no need to manufacture joy as we traverse the dark valleys of life. What we need is to bring the truth to the Father; to plead, "how long" but still be able to say, "I trust you." Over the past 18 years of raising a medially fragile childe, with countless hospital stays, surgeries, pain, and more than our fair share of standing on death's doorstep, the biggest lesson I've learned is it is ok to share my aching soul with One who genuinely cares.

We can both lament and rejoice in the same breath without risking contradiction.

Our culture tries to convince us that "mature" Christians never speak their sadness out loud, masking the truth with nonsensical falsehoods about being "too blessed to be stressed" when all the while we are melting inside. Still others have tried to convince us God isn't interested in how we really feel about our suffering. Neither are true. 

What have you been afraid to say out loud to God? If you prayed Psalm 13 honestly today, what would your “How long?” sound like?

Heavenly Father, I realize you already know the burdens I carry. Forgive me for trying to hide my pain. Teach me to lament without shame. Meet me in my questions and hold me steady when Your face feels hidden from my sight. I choose to trust your faithful love. In Jesus name, Amen.