Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life.”
While the passage above from Philippians was written for a group of people around 62 AD, it would seem to be a kind of prophetic declaration for the current state of the world. Things are wonky, bent out of shape. We are tempted to allow ourselves to be bent (beyond recognition of who we are, and who were are called to be), right alongside.
On a clear night, when we remark “the stars are out,” what we are really saying is: “it is now dark enough to see the stars.” Things in high contrast are most visible; and when things around us seem dark, it is the time the light-bearers will most be seen.
The pathway to be what we are truly made to be comes at a cost–but like borrowing against your own account and getting interest on the sum, we heap benefit upon benefit even in just making ourselves ready. “Do everything (all things) without grumbling or complaining.” Unless you’ve already mastered that one, easier said than done, right?
Complaint and grumbling: whether we are exposed to it from within, or from someone else like wafting secondhand smoke, it is a noxious bundling of negativity. Looking closer at the roots of the word helps to understand this.
com – a prefix meaning “with,” “together,” “in association.” plaint – from Middle English plainte, borrowed from Anglo-Norman plainte (“lamentation”), (modern French plainte), from Medieval Latin plancta (“plaint”), from Latin planctus (“a beating of the breast in lamentation, beating, lamentation.”)
I’m no greek scholar, but it was easy enough to pull up a handydandy Greek-English interlinear translation of Philippians 2:14-16 and find that in most translations, the terms “grumbling” and “murmuring” are used interchangeably, and in the case of this particular verse, are sometimes coupled as “grumbling” and “arguing.”
When I look at the definition of grumbling (verb: to murmur or mutter in discontent; complain sullenly; to utter low, indistinct sounds; growl), I am caught by two particular aspects–that of discontent and sullenness. A sense of resisting the potential of the growth from a trial perhaps intended to bring a newfound strength is suggested here.
This is in contrast to that which is laid out throughout the colorful landscape of the book of Psalms, likely two-thirds of which fits into the category of complaint and lament. So, how do we reconcile this? Shortly before his death, Jesus cried out in utter anguish on the cross, quoting Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The following stanza goes on to say: “Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish? My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest.”
Perhaps what is different here is the fact that Jesus was voicing his pain upwards to the only One Who could remedy his situation. He was not idly stewing in self-pity or inwardly-focused angst: he was expressing his justified pain at the alienation from his Source he sensed. And likewise, in the divinely-breathed utterances in the reminder of the Psalms, the writer resolves each and every time with an underscoring of trust, despite circumstances, despite appearances, despite even the dictates of emotional reality.
The Psalmist later asserts: “You who fear the Lord, praise him! All you descendants of Jacob, honor him! Revere him, all you descendants of Israel! For he has not despised or scorned the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help.”
Armed with the knowledge that as with anger (“in your anger do not sin” Ephesians 2:4) there is an appropriate time and way to complain, to lament, and not spill over into sin. In the safety of our expression to the Father, there is nothing we need to hold back; our hearts are not hidden.
May we continue to wash away the dust of the self-indulgent grumblings, murmurings and the kind of complaint that dulls the surface we are meant to reflect in dark days. This true light fills others with hope, with resurrection life: but may we not forget it must first fill us– and that our Creator delights to pour us to overflowing.
Postscript: An excellent article I found on this topic from a Catholic sister: https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/column/complaining-to-god-with-the-psalms-2992