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The title of today's sermon is, “How to Complain.”

Now, you might think it strange that you'd have a sermon offering lessons on how to complain. Is this something we really need? Isn't there enough complaining in the world without the church offering to help you do it even better? After all, the Bible says, “do everything without complaining or arguing” (Philippians 2:14). But, while one verse says, “Don't complain,” if you took all the complaints out of the Bible you'd have a pamphlet. It's filled with either complaints or responses to complaints. Why? Because God knows people. In the beginning... Eve complained about the food selection, Adam complained about Eve, and God complained about their kids. The prophets complain about the people, the government, and the weather. Jesus complains about his own disciples who are sometimes not the sharpest knives in the drawer. And then there's Job who complains – and complains, and complains for 42 chapters.

Today's Old Testament passage, Psalm 31, is a masterful complaint. In the New Testament passage, the disciples Thomas and Philip raise their hands and interrupt Jesus with technical complaints during this incredibly tender and touching moment when Jesus is trying to tell them how much he loves them. So much of the Bible is either addressed to complaints or expressed in the form of complaints; but we don't talk very much about that in church. In church, everyone's supposed to be “nice.” We don't talk very much about complaining in church, probably because we're pretty clumsy at complaining. When people start complaining, other people get hurt. Instead of listening to the Bible, we take our lessons on complaining from people who are rude: Radio talk show hosts. Reality show contestants. News commentators. The complaints in the Bible may be many things, but they aren't rude. Psalm 31 is a psalm of David. King David. David the musician. David the artist. And I'll bet you when people first heard the psalm they didn't say, “Oh, there's Dave, complaining again.” That's because the Psalmist understood how to complain, not with rudeness, but with style. Today's sermon is an attempt to help you learn how to be a better complainer. If it helps, fine. If not, send me a complaint.

Why do we complain?

I had to laugh when I read the dedication line of Psalm 31. It says, “A psalm of David. To the choir director.” Apparently choir directors know something about complaints. It's in the job description. I picture the royal Choirmaster coming into David's office, banging his head on the desk, and saying, “It's two weeks from Passover, and they won't sing the Halleluia Chorus!” So, David, a genius of both leadership and music, doesn't say, “Fire the whole bunch of them!” Instead, he writes his Choirmaster a new song, a song about complaining. And he doesn't hold back.

I am hurting and almost blind.

My whole body aches.

I have known only sorrow

all my life long,

and I suffer

year after year (especially in the weeks before Christmas).

I am weak from sin,

and my bones are breaking.

And the choir director says, “Yes! You know how I feel!”

In a way, David is saying to his choir director, “I feel your pain.” But I think he's also saying, “Cheer up. Things could be worse.” Sometimes in the middle of a complaint we need to be reminded of that. Things could be worse. However, in the middle of a fine white whine, that's not way we want to hear. We want to hear, “You're so right. You're righter than right.” We know things could be worse, but that's not the point. That's because most of the time our complaining isn't a search for a solution. Some helpful idiot says, “Here's a way to solve this problem,” and we say, “That'll never work.” Why? Because it's more validating to complain. Complaining is a way to validate ourselves. We complain in order to get attention, but more than that, we complain in order to get the attention we deserve.

Next time you're with a group of people, when someone tells a story about how bad they've had it, listen to what happens next. Most of the time, if someone has a complaint, the next person is going to tell about their own complaint. And pretty soon, it's as if there's a competition of – not one-upsmanship, but - one-downsmanship to see who's got the best worst story. “Oh, well, if you think that's bad, did I ever tell you about the time my Aunt Martha the dog groomer got attacked by a herd of angry Chihuahuas.” Complaining is a competitive sport. But it's a hollow victory, because if you win, instead of admiring you, everyone's sitting around thinking, “Wow. I'm glad I'm not him.”

We complain in order to get attention. If you have the winning complaint, you get attention. And that's not necessarily a bad thing. The writer of Psalm 31 wants God's attention, and says so. “Hey Lord! Do as you promised and rescue me! Look how messed up I am!” And, with his list of complaints, the writer deserves the attention of a loving, caring God. We're taught not to be complainers, but there are plenty of injustices in the world that deserve complaint. If your school is filled with mold, you should complain. If your nurse gives you the wrong medication, you should complain. We complain in order to bring attention – government's attention, our family's attention, God's attention – we complain to bring attention to an injustice. We complain to get attention for the greater good, and that's not necessarily a bad thing.

The problem with complaining in order to get attention is that it's kind of addictive. We get a thrill when someone pays attention to our complaints. So we do it again. We get more attention. And then we start finding things to complain about – not because we're lifting up injustices for all to see, but because we want more attention, and more attention. There's a difference between a person with a complaint and a complainer. Do you remember on Saturday Night Live a few years ago when they had the sketch about that family, “The Whiners”? (“We're Wendy and Doug Whiner.”) I think it's safe to say the example of Psalm 31 is not a song about whining. In the Bible, the Israelites in the wilderness whined to Moses, “We don't like this manna God keeps sending.” So God sent poisonous snakes. God doesn't like whiners.

Complaints bring attention to an injustice. Whining tries to bring validation by proving how miserable we are. The problem with complaints when they cross the line into whining is twofold. First, God already knows how miserable you are. After the third or fourth repetition, you can be pretty sure God gets it. Second, you don't need to whine in order to get validation because God already says, “You are my son; you are my daughter. I love you. You are mine.” The point of Easter, the point of Christ's suffering and resurrection is God saying, “There is nothing, nothing, in this world that can separate you from my love. Nothing.” God's will is to leave no one behind.

So, how do we learn to complain well. After all, this is America, where everybody's got a Constitutional right to complain. It's one of those Amendments. Complaining is one of our most plentiful natural resources. But how do we become skilled at complaining, the way the writer of Psalm 31 was?

Again, it's not a total surprise this was written for the Choir Director. So many really good complaints are songs. It's also not a total surprise that in a country where everyone has a right to complain we should also give birth to The Blues. B. B. King, Hank Williams, Etta James – they know how to complain... with style. Even Elvis used to know how to do it: “Oh, since my baby left me / I've found a new place to dwell / I'm living down on Lonely Street / at Heartbreak Hotel.” That's the artistry of The Blues. It's complaining that makes you want to dance.

Psalm 31 is, first of all, a song. That should tell you something. It's the Jewish Blues. Music touches the heart and the soul, and can help heal the heart and the soul like nothing else. Choir directors (and accompanists) understand that; that's the point of their ministry – healing the heart and soul in all points of life, even if it takes a sad song.

Second, Psalm 31 isn't just a song, it's a faithful song. Yes, in lines like, “I have known only sorrow all my life long,” (and how many Blues songs are expansions on that line?), yes, the attention is drawn to the singer. But not for long. The singer only points to himself or herself in order to make a point. The point is to point the listener to God. Psalm 31 is saying, “Yes I've got it bad, and that ain't good... but God is so good. Furthermore, God has been good, and I know God will be good again.”

Third, instead of pointing only at the singer, and God's promise to him or to her, the psalm reaches out with this assurance to everyone who hears. Listen to the last line of the psalm. It says, “Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD.” In other words, God's justice isn't just a thing between God and me. There's evangelism in this psalm. There's the hope that all people will come to know the strength and the heart that come from trusting in God, singing to God, crying out to God when life is rotten, and when it's pretty good, too.

So if you want to complain well, artistically, profoundly, you can use the example of Psalm 31 as a guide.

First, sing out. And I think you can do that metaphorically as well as literally. When some of us sing out we cause small animals to whine, or howl, and that's not good. Instead of sitting still when you see injustice, or are the victim of injustice, complain. Let your voice be heard. When you speak from the heart it will be music to someone's ears, even if you're speaking of heartbreak. Bear in mind, not everyone appreciates the Blues. But sometimes they just have to be heard.

Second, if you want to complain well, direct your song, your complaint not only to the right person, but direct your complaint to God. It's OK. You can't hurt God. Really. Jesus has already died. Let God have it. That's right: let God have it. Let God HAVE it. Get it off your chest and put it on God's. There's room on the cross for your sins, and for your complaints, and for the injustices you've suffered. Give them to God. Let God have it. And let go of it.

Third, if you want to complain well, sing (and complain) not for your personal attention and glory, do it in the hope that someone else might sing along. Make your complaint an act of evangelism. Say to people, “Look, I know you're in a rotten place right now. You're not alone. With God's help, let's get out of here together. Be strong. Take heart. Trust in the Lord, who's gotten out of rottener places than this.”

Lastly, if you want to complain well, remember that most of the complaints in the Bible – not all of them, but most of them – are written in the form of songs. Now what does that mean? Should I go out and write a Blues song about how bad I feel? Maybe. If that's your gift. Get some dark sunglasses and a harmonica and go down to Market Square and let the world hear you. What that really means is, phrase your complaint in a form that's not an offense to the ear. Whining is sing-songy, but it's not a song. It's not artistry. Rudeness is speaking out, who wants to sing along with that? A well-composed complaint is an invitation to others to join in. It makes people want to take up your cause, not slam their hands over their ears, or over your mouth. The Bible says to speak the truth with love. If you can make the truth your heart's song, even better.

If you complain poorly, you'll either drive everyone else away, or you'll attract other complainers... and then you'll drive lots of people away. If you strive after the example of Psalm 31, you'll attract God.

O Lord,

2 Turn your ear to me,

come quickly to my rescue;

be my rock of refuge,

a strong fortress to save me.

5 Into your hands I commit my spirit;

redeem me, O LORD, the God of truth.

7 I will be glad and rejoice in your love,

for you saw my affliction

and knew the anguish of my soul.

24 Be strong and take heart,

all you who hope in the LORD.

We don't hear many complaints like that anymore. Maybe we should. Maybe we should start with ourselves.