For this Thanksgiving service, we come together in a spirit of both lament and gratitude. Guided by the words of Psalm 13, we acknowledge the deep cries of the soul—“How long, O Lord?”—and the honest wrestling with sorrow, silence and waiting. Yet even in the midst of that waiting, we also hold firm to the enduring hope and trust in God’s unfailing love. God invites us to bring our whole selves before Him—our questions, our pain and our praise—as we seek healing, renewal and the assurance that we are never forgotten.
sermon (3 segments): Lament in Thanksgiving (Psalm 13) with Rev. Alvin Lau
Have You Forgotten Me, God? A Journey Through Psalm 13
Have you ever forgotten someone? Maybe you missed picking someone up, or maybe you left someone behind, overlooked them. In one episode of Modern Family, a boy named Luke finds himself abandoned after his parents, distracted by their own argument, drive off in separate cars. He’s left standing there, wondering, “Where did everyone go?”
That moment of being forgotten resonates deeply. And sometimes, it’s not just people we feel forgotten by—it’s God.
Psalm 13 is a raw and honest lament from King David. Whether he was fleeing Saul’s jealousy or escaping Absalom’s rebellion, David found himself in a cave—physically and emotionally. And from that place of isolation, he cried out:
“O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever? How long will you look the other way?”
— Psalm 13:1
David’s words echo the cries of many hearts today. In a world that feels increasingly chaotic, we may ask: God, have you forgotten us?
Naming the Pain
The first step in lament is acknowledgment. Whether it’s personal grief, global unrest or spiritual dryness, we are invited to name what weighs heavy on our hearts. Some of us may be in a season of peace—praise God for that. But others are carrying burdens too deep for words. We take the opportunity to name it before God.
Surrendering the Struggle
David didn’t stop at lament. He pleaded:
“Turn and answer me, O Lord my God! Restore the sparkle to my eyes, or I will die.”
— Psalm 13:3
There’s desperation here, but also defiance—a refusal to let go of God, even when He feels distant. David teaches us that God can handle our honesty. He doesn’t flinch at our raw emotions. He invites us to pour them out.
These are our prayers of surrender. In honesty and desperation, we lament openly to God in this sacred space of release.
Choosing Trust and Thanksgiving
“But I trust in your unfailing love. I will rejoice because you have rescued me. I will sing to the Lord because he is good to me.”
— Psalm 13:5–6
Go back to David in that cave. Surrounded by darkness, uncertainty and fear, he still chooses to trust. His circumstances haven’t changed—but his posture has. He moves from lament to surrender, and finally to praise. Not because everything is fixed, but because he knows God is faithful.
Thankfulness isn’t just about feeling happy. It’s about remembering who God is, even when life is hard. It’s about declaring that He is good, even when we don’t feel good. And it’s about trusting that He is working, even when we can’t see it.
As a church, we lift our voices in thanksgiving—naming the blessings, the mercies, the quiet gifts we often overlook.
A Community That Laments and Rejoices
Psalm 13 reminds us that lament and praise are not opposites—they are companions. In the same breath, we can cry out, “Have you forgotten me?” and declare, “I trust in your unfailing love.” This is the rhythm of faith. This is the heartbeat of the church.
So whether you’re in a cave of sorrow or a mountaintop of joy, know this: God has not forgotten you. He hears your cries. He welcomes your honesty. And He invites you to trust Him again.
Let us be a community that holds space for both lament and thanksgiving. Because in doing so, we reflect the fullness of life—and the faithfulness of our God.