This week we have some thoughts from Caleb and we will be meeting at the Enigma Tap at 7:30pm. See you then.
For this series of blogs we are invited to write about a song/movie/book/painting/TV programme/interpretive dance/well-made dry stone wall which is meaningful to us. I have chosen the song ‘Rejoice’ by Julien Baker.
The song is available in all the usual places. The lyrics and fan annotations are at: https://genius.com/Julien-baker-rejoice-lyrics
A warning – this song and this blog contains discussion of substance abuse and suicide.
Julien Baker is a young indie singer-songwriter from Tennessee, a lesbian, a socialist, and a member of the ironically named supergroup ‘boygenius’ with Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus. Baker also has some kind of Christian faith, although as discussed on her Wikipedia page, she has stopped identifying with clear labels, as she feels that helps her have a less black-and-white worldview than what she was raised with. Also, she felt it was damaging to be constantly put into boxes and asked to speak as (for example) a ‘sober queer Christian.’
In fact, we can even see some of her wrestling with her faith in different live versions of this song over the years, such as this one in 2021. She has moved towards using the pronoun ‘she’ and now ‘they’ for God, rather than ‘he’ on the original recording, and she also plays around with singing ‘I think there’s a God’ or ‘I know there’s a God’ in different performances.
Baker recorded this song when she was just 18 and released it on her 2015 album Sprained Ankle. This and other songs on the album deal with Baker’s struggles with substance abuse, depression, self-worth, and faith.
It may seem strange that this song that’s so personal to Baker’s experiences also means so much to me when I’m twice her age, male, straight, and thankfully can’t relate to the addiction or the same extent of self-destructive feelings and actions that Julien sings about.
The main reason I love the song is the phrase at its heart: ‘rejoice and complain.’
Baker does both in this song. She expresses that her existence, her being created, is worthy of rejoicing (‘Lift my voice that I was made’). But she also ‘curses [God’s] name’ that she remains alive, and suggests that she experiences her continued existence as a burden—‘Why did you … make me stay?’ She both rejoices and complains to God that she lives.
Baker also affirms that God ‘hears either way.’ She can’t always rejoice. She doesn’t ‘know what to say.’ Sometimes she can only call out to her departed friends in envy that they’ve escaped this vale of tears. But God hears. God doesn’t turn away from Julien until she’s ready to put on a happy face and sing ‘Shine Jesus Shine’. This in itself is something to rejoice about… that God hears—that God is listening to her cries of anguish, her prayers of complaint, even her cursing God.
The idea that God hears the cries of the oppressed and all who are suffering is important to Hilary and me. We even named our son Ishmael, which means ‘God has heard.’ God doesn’t expect us to only express our positive feelings. God hears (see: Exodus 2:23-25) and God liberates (see: the rest of Exodus). And when God doesn’t liberate—because let’s be real, there’s a whole lot of liberation still needed—God hears us when we complain.
I think this is shown best by the Psalms. In stark contrast to the worship at most churches, the Psalms express the full expression of human emotions, from reverent happiness to genocidal rage.
A common term used for the ‘negative’ psalms is ‘lament’. And this is a good word for a lot of psalms. But as biblical scholars point out, ‘lament’ doesn’t cover the full extent of negative feelings and experiences portrayed in the psalms. There’s psalms of darkness, disorientation, confession, vengeance, protest… and most importantly for this blog, psalms of complaint.
In complaint psalms like Psalms 35, 74, and 86, the psalmists have the chutzpah or the audacity to lay responsibility at God’s hands for what they suffer. They challenge God to fulfil God’s promises, to live up to God’s character, to do something. This is an act of boldness, despair, and anger towards God, but it’s also a profound act of faith and trust that God is in control, and that it’s safe to bring our complaints to God, and God’s listening.
The fact that these complaints have been preserved in the Bible for 3000ish years shows that our tradition affirms that we should express our negative experiences and bring them to God as complaints. And that these complaints to God are valuable for others to hear or read.
Julien Baker’s song—like the Psalms—affirms that both rejoicing and complaining are legitimate ways to feel. We should express both—to ourselves, to each other, and to God. And we should act in accordance with both rejoicing and complaining: We should celebrate, enjoy life in God’s creation and all the good things it offers, and live in gratitude for what is good. We should also complain: acknowledge our suffering and that of others, name the injustice that it’s easier to ignore, and respond in righteous anger as well as working to fix it.
Personally, complaining often comes more naturally to me than rejoicing. (I said this to Hilary and she burst out laughing at what an understatement it was.) While some people rejoice a lot and need to complain too, I complain a lot and need to rejoice too. I have a lot to be grateful for, and I need to express that more. I owe gratitude to God and so many people for what they have done for me. Expressing gratitude is very good for our mental health, so it’s good for me and those around me when I manage to rejoice. The phrase ‘rejoice and complain’ both affirms my complaining and reminds me to rejoice.
I often forget that Baker’s song is actually not called ‘Rejoice and Complain’: it is just called ‘Rejoice’. And in the final lines, she focuses on the rejoicing. The song is very honest about extreme suffering and taking that suffering to God in complaint. But ultimately where she gets to at the end of the song is a state of rejoicing. Baker actually sums up the song’s meaning as ‘being grateful for horrible, horrible things.’
Again this is similar to a lot of the lament/complaint Psalms: most (not all) end with lines expressing faith and trust in God despite all of the complaining that has come before. Psalms 13, 109, and 130 are good examples.
Like these psalms, Baker’s song goes to the depths. But it also challenges us to rejoice even from those depths. Even when all we can rejoice about is that we ‘think there’s a God,’ and they ‘know our name and all our hideous mistakes,’ how much we ‘throw away’ all the good they give us, and they hear all our complaints and our cursing, and they’re still ‘listening at night.’
In fact, I would go further and say God is not just listening. God is there with us, in Christ quoting a complaint psalm in his cry of agony on the cross. Like the Christ of the Abyss statue, at the bottom of the sea, with arms raised up to heaven—God is there in the depths, complaining and rejoicing with us.
Have you ever complained about something? (food at a restaurant, something you have bought, a show you have seen etc)
What aspects of Julien Baker’s song “Rejoice” resonate most deeply with you?
Why is the combination of rejoicing and complaining, as expressed in Baker’s song, so powerful?
How does this idea challenge conventional ways of approaching faith, especially in worship or prayer?
Why do you think both rejoicing and complaining are preserved in sacred texts like the Psalms?
How might including expressions of anger, despair, or complaint enrich modern faith practices?
This post is written by one of our many friends. At BeachcomberFX we love to hear what others have to say and are always on the lookout for people who want to share their thoughts or stories with us.