Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

I call it spiraling. Maybe you know the feeling: When you've had a crummy day and then there's that last little thing that sends you into a spiral of hopelessness or frustration - whatever your particular brand includes. It's this feeling of too much, right? Too much heartache, loss, frustration, fear, injustice... And we're consumed.

In our day, we might head to a friend or social media for a rant, or maybe some doom scrolling or substance abuse to numb out. But in Hebrew culture, many expressed their heartache through a form of poetry called lament. This uncomfortably honest poetry is what makes up the book of the Bible called Lamentations, which is a lament over the conquest of Jerusalem by the Babylonians in 597 BC. Traditionally believed to have been written by the prophet Jeremiah, it's a picture of grief, anger, and horrific loss. Talk about a bad day.

And yet (as we've only occasionally seen this summer), the sun will sometimes break through a cloud ceiling to briefly shine brightly, and this is what happens in the middle of Jeremiah's spiral in Lamentations 3:21-23. He says: "Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."

In the midst of destruction and loss, Jeremiah remembers the great love, compassion, and faithfulness of God. Now, the linear thinking of us Westerners might make this pause for hope feel random, sandwiched here in the middle of Jeremiah's lament and not at the end. But Hebrew writing is often more circular than ours, and sometimes the middle actually reflects the heart of the message.

See, I think we expect the conclusion of the matter to come at the end of the circumstance. But this is rarely how life works. Jeremiah doesn't find an end to his grief at the end of his lament as we might expect. Instead, he finds it in the middle. God's great love is both his grounding hope in the spiral and a complicated source of confusion. He asks all the whys and how comes as he laments, holding nothing back from God. But, here at the center of all these honest questions, Jeremiah tells us his ultimate conclusion: What keeps the spiral from consuming him, even as it swirls around? His foundational confidence in God's great love and faithfulness. For him, this is what it all comes back to.

I think this shift to a more circular Hebrew way of thinking might serve us well in the midst of our own spirals, too. Because it would be nice if the trial ended, we got the message, and we all lived happily ever after. But that hasn't really been my experience with this life, and I don't think our friends who haven't put their faith in Jesus are buying this kind of unrealistic fable we like to spin, either.

In our own lives and as we seek to bring the comfort and love of God to our friends in the midst of their own chaos, we can learn a thing or two from Jeremiah about how the love of God interacts with our circumstances. When we recall to mind the great love of God, his past faithfulness, and the new mercies he gives us each morning, we can find ourselves grounded in the spiral. Even as the storms of life whip around us, we will not be consumed.

And I think this is a compelling perspective to our friends far from God, too, because it is far more aligned with reality. I don't just find God's goodness when my circumstances get better. Because of his great love, I have hope here in the messy middle. And friend, so can you.

Father, thank you for your great love and compassion for us, your children. When it feels like life is consuming me, help me to see your past faithfulness and new mercies at the heart of all my troubles. I pray for eyes to see those in my life who need this great hope and for courage to share your love with them. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.