A Lament in the Context of Enduring Faith

Nicolas Wolterstorff's son died when he was 22 and he writes about his grief and loss in the book, "Lament for a Son." Wolterstorff writes this, "I must explore The Lament as a mode for my address to God. Psalm 42 is a lament in the context of a faith that endures. Lament and trust are in tension, like wood and string in a bow."
When a child dies, it is an unspeakable loss for a parent. There are no answers to our questions, "Why them and not me? Why a child when there is so much life unlived? Why would God watch them die and do nothing? Why would God watch us suffer such loss?"
Still more unspeakable a loss is to say, "There must be no God since my questions have no answers." Perhaps the faith we once had will never be the same. But like a tree whose leaves turn in the fall, drop in the winter and bud again in the spring, our faith can be born anew – similar in shape, but altogether new, different, changed by time, age, death and life.
In the midst of our own loss, we might find ourselves drawn to others who have walked this path ahead of us. I want to quiz them like I would someone who is exiting a frightening roller coaster. "You survived?! What was it like? If you made it, do you think I'd make it?"
The Bible is filled with the witness of those exiting the roller coaster and making their way by the Spirit of God onto the next one which carries yet untold adventure. The words are a tension of lament and trust.
I couldn't imagine walking the path of lament in any other context than enduring faith. Maybe it isn't always "my" faith. Sometimes it is the faith of others - others who believe and trust when I can't, like the church and Jesus himself.
A quote from mother Teresa that has helped me pray through the years comes to mind: "When times come when we can't pray, it is very simple: if Jesus is in my heart, let Him pray, let Him talk to His Father in the silence of my heart. Since I cannot speak, He will speak; since I cannot pray, He will pray."
The writer of Psalm 42 says, "My tears have been my food day and night. I remember," he says, "how it was when joy was still my lot, how I used to go with the multitude, leading the procession to the house of God, with shouts of joy and thanksgiving among the festive throng. Now it's different. I am downcast, disturbed. Yet I find that faith is not dead. So I say to myself, 'Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.' But then my grief returns and again I lament to God my Rock: 'Why have you forgotten me? Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by the enemy? Again faith replies: Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God."
Wolterstorff reflects on this Psalm: "Back and forth, lament and faith, faith and lament, each fastened to the other."
A lament in the context of faith that endures. Through a veil of tears we can say, "Thanks be to God."