I continue to be amazed at the notion that so many of us are constantly trying to look good, sound good and appear cheery–despite what’s going on on the inside.
Myself included.
Unzip the mask for a moment, and on most folks you will find a mixed bag of joy, disappointment, anxiety, and hope…
All wrapped up in one.
I love Kathleen Norris, author of The Clositer Walk, who urges us to find “life” in the Psalms–not only in worship– but in pain.
David wrote about everything. I still have not decided if he really was neurotic, or if he just had a lot of enemies.
The truth is : it doesn’t matter.
Atleast he talked about it.
Prayed about it.
We typically omit the neuroses of the psalms in our modern day communal acts of worship.
Instead, we bring our shaky or disappointed selves with a mask of serenity that invites no inquiry.

Unfortunately, when we omit phrases like “I am exhausted with groaning, every night I drench my pillow with tears,” or : “Oh that I could fly away on the wings of a dove…” we miss the opportunity to connect the human heart with a God who knows our sufferings better than we do. Our suffering stays locked down and inaccessible.

Mostly, these days, we associate praise and worship with triumph and joy.
And yes–triumph and joy are part of our collective response to God.
But Ms. Norris makes it clear: Praise must incorporate honesty, humanity, and ultimately: our fallen nature.

And when it does, it isn’t always tidy.
Because it’s a two way exchange. When we open our human hands up to a holy God, we enter a conversation. That conversation includes all of God’s holiness, goodness and majesty.
And we enter into a conversation that includes all of our being–not just the shined up stuff.
It isn’t easy; the unravelling. The unzipping of the mask. We haven’t really found a rhythm in our communal worship times to embrace the pain people bring. A beloved sister once told me she hated the worship during her Sunday services for months after her son died.
I remember her expression of feeling stuck and how she shamed herself that she couldn’t shine up and praise God anyway.

In the Cloister Walk, Ms. Norris shares about her journey living among monks who read all of the Psalms in their communal times of worship.

Perhaps my friend would have felt different if she were hanging out with people who were reading the words of David that are soaked with tears.