The Irresistible Appeal of a Sad Song

PREVIEW: Why do we keep coming back to sad songs time after time, generation after generation, millennium after millennium—and will continue to do so until sadness is banned from the created realm at the end of time? Because they work! You see, as we listen to them, the musician skillfully pulls from us the very same raw-edged emotions of pain, loss, and disappointment contained in the song, and somehow magically, mysteriously, inextricably, we become a part of it. Strangely, a sad song done well makes us even sadder—and we love it. So, here’s the deal: You’ve got pain, too—more than your fair share of sorrow, and disappointment. If you don’t, just wait a day or two, and you will. So you turn your sorrow into a song. And, if nothing else, sing your own sad song to the Lord. You never know, someone may discover your lament someday, and your sad tune may become famous. It wouldn’t be the first time. By the way, that is to best way to turn your regret into something redemptive!

MY JOURNEY OF WORSHIP // Psalm 88:1-3

What we used to call Country and Western music—now it’s just called “Country”—isn’t the only musical genre to suffer an overabundance of sad songs. The truth is, all types of music have their fair share of lament. It may not be obvious at first, but the inspiration for so many of the songs we love has its origin in a broken heart, a dashed hope, or a shattered dream.

The reason we keep coming back to sad songs time after time, generation after generation, millennium after millennium—and will continue to do so until sadness is banned from the created realm at the end of time—is because they work. As we listen to them, the musician skillfully pulls from us the very same raw-edged emotions of pain, loss, and disappointment contained in the song, and somehow magically, mysteriously, inextricably, we become a part of it. Strangely, a sad song done well makes us even sadder—and we love it.

That’s what the psalm is doing here. The composer is sad, and he has written a song about it that pulls us into the raw, jagged edge of his pain:

• He despaired of death—perhaps from outside forces, or maybe from the inner pain of his heartbroken life. (“For my life is full of troubles, and death draws near,” Psalm 88:3)
• He felt abandoned by his closest friends, and all alone in the world. (“You have driven my friends away by making me repulsive to them. I am in a trap with no way of escape. … You have taken away my companions and loved ones. Darkness is my closest friend,” Psalm 88:8,18).
• He was simply worn out with sorrow (“My eyes are blinded by my tears. Each day I beg for your help, O Lord; I lift my hands to you for mercy.,” Psalm 88:9)
• He was deeply disappointed with God for it. (“My eyes are blinded by my tears. Each day I beg for your help, O Lord; I lift my hands to you for mercy,” Psalm 88:13-14)
• He had suffered lifelong devastation—with no relief in sight, and he was at the point of surrendering to the likelihood that his would always be a hard and sad life. (“I have been sick and close to death since my youth. I stand helpless and desperate before your terrors,” Psalm 88:15) .

We know that this man, named Heman, by the way, was a very wise man (1 Chronicles 25:6)—among the wisest of the wise. Yet all of his wisdom, talent (he was also a singer-songwriter according to 1 Chronicles 15:19), and position in the king’s court didn’t prevent nor alleviate the pain that saturated his world. But Heman was wise enough not just to sit around and stew in his sad juices. Perhaps what made him so wise and talented was that he did something as therapeutic as anything else on earth to counteract his sadness: He wrote songs.

Heman put his experiences and emotions into words, and those words were set to music, memorialized in the psalter of the human race, the Book of Psalms. Maybe his pain never went away—we just don’t know—but I’m quite confident that he felt a whole lot better knowing that others would be inspired and find strength for their own painful journey through his music.

You’ve got pain, too—more than your fair share of sorrow, and disappointment. If you don’t, just wait a day or two, and you will. So why don’t you give it a shot? Turn your pain into a song. Sometimes you wrestle with the sobering sense that your sadness over a matter may just be your lot in life. Perhaps it never will go away—I hope not—but that may be your reality. Go ahead and put your experience into words. Then turn your words into a tune. And if nothing else, sing your own sad song to the Lord.

You never know, someone may discover your lament someday, and your sad tune may become famous. It wouldn’t be the first time.

By the way, that is to best way to turn your regret into something redemptive!