I listen to a lot of female-hosted self-care podcasts, and LAWL, do those women love to reframe a narrative. It’s a therapy-adjacent phrase that reminds us to change our perspective on a problem to view it in a more positive light.
And I find it helpful most of the time. For instance, I’ve been trying to reframe my month-long dispute with a Facebook marketplace vendor as an opportunity to practice assertiveness. And I’ve been trying to view my quarantine as a kind of detox for the planet, during which our collective inability to travel is like sending the earth to the spa for some much-needed TLC.
Sometimes reframing the narrative helps.
Sometimes it doesn’t.
One thing I appreciate about the Bible — and particularly the Psalms — is that they never ask me to reframe the narrative. To buck up. To turn my frown upside down.
Instead, the Psalms meet me in the sad, scared place that I am. That’s why I’ve been finding the lament psalms of the Bible so particularly helpful these past few weeks.
Yes, they say. This is stressful and boring and disappointing. Go ahead and tell God all about it.
And so I do. If you’re new to lament (as I was, having grown up Baptist), check out this article about why we need lament during age of coronavirus. Or read Psalm 22, which is particularly timely during Holy Week.