Naming Our Losses — Moses Falco

In last week’s blog, I invited us to spend time lamenting the loss, pain, and suffering that COVID-19 has brought on us. We’re at the one year mark of the announcement of this pandemic and the shutdown of life as we knew it in North America. Although the pandemic has affected people in different ways, there is no doubt that it has affected us all. It’s important for us to recognize and bring those losses to God in prayer, trusting that God hears, and more importantly, that God cares to hear.

But how do we go about naming our losses? How do we deal with emotions of anger and frustration in healthy ways? What do we do when we don’t have good answers to all the “Why” questions? How do we commemorate the one year anniversary of this pandemic?

First of all, I think the best thing we can do is to be authentically who we are. Use practices that work for you. Use language that actually captures what you want to say. God already knows what’s on our hearts and there’s nothing we can say in prayer that would offend God. The most important part is to be intentional about it, making space and taking time for us to engage.

Secondly, it may be good to use practices that give shape to the process of naming our losses. Lamenting doesn’t always come naturally, especially with our busy schedules, so it may be good to try a practice that doesn’t come naturally to you in order to emphasize what it is you’re doing. But use what works for you. Here are just a few suggestions:

Write down the losses you are dealing with on a piece of paper. Spend some time in prayer naming those losses before God. Then burn the paper.
Go for a prayer walk. Find some rocks along the way to represent your losses. As you pray through your losses, let them go, or throw them into the woods, river, or lake.
Use art. Write a song, poem, or paint a picture that represents your loss.
Gather together with close family or friends (as restrictions allow) to collectively name your losses. Spend time sharing and praying for one another.
Put on a lament service at your church, inviting your community to share and pray through your collective losses.
Read some of the lament Psalms that speak of disorientation (Psalms 13, 35, 74, 79, 86, and 137 are some examples). Read them aloud. Reflect on them or journal about them.
Write a prayer to God and share it with some close friends. Ask them to pray on your behalf.

Give yourself grace as you do this. It’s okay if it feels weird, or if you don’t feel particularly different after. It’s also okay if things are messy. If you need to scream or break something, go for it. But lastly, always leave room for hope. That doesn’t mean we need to move away from lament too quickly. Although we could try to put silver linings on our suffering, it’s okay to stay in our loss for a while. Leave the door open for the light to come in, but don’t rush to walk through it. God will sort it out in the right time.

For me personally, I have been feeling unsettled and angry with how things have turned out during this pandemic. Jessica and I had our first baby during the pandemic, and some of our close family members still have not been able to meet her. She’s almost one year old and I keep wondering how much longer it will be until she knows what community life is really like.

Both Jessica and I also lost a grandparent during this time. Not only were we not allowed to be present with them or with our family, but knowing that they passed away in isolation from their loved ones breaks our hearts. I continue to see how my friends and family struggle with the loss of connections, jobs, plans, and health. I know that we do what we do to protect each other. Even though I don’t always understand or like the rules, I still follow them. But I have no answers for all the loss we’re experiencing because of the pandemic, and that leads me to lament.

My personal lament prayer:

Oh God, sometimes it feels like You’re so distant!
I know I’m supposed to believe that You’re always with us,
but where were You when this whole pandemic started?
I know I’m supposed to believe that You give us free will and don’t micromanage creation,
but would it hurt You to intervene once in a while so stuff like this doesn’t happen?

How many more people need to get sick and die
and how many more need to learn to grieve in solitude?
How many more people need to lose their jobs
and how many more businesses and organizations need to go under?
How many more orders and rules do we need to learn and adapt to
and how many more instances of loneliness, depression, and anxiety can we take?

How much longer will weddings, funerals, and graduations be postponed
and when can we stop keeping distance from our loved ones?
How much longer will the doors to our churches need to be closed
and when can we finally sing together again?
How much longer will the rich and powerful benefit from this crisis
and when will justice come for the increasingly poor and marginalized?

Oh God, sometimes it feels like You’re so distant!
Deliver us from this pandemic. I don’t know how much more we can take.
Do Your work. Do something.
And open my eyes to see it.
Amen.