The Key to Connection Part 2: Lament

We live in a culture that promises certainty with good effort and planning. We chase achievements, build elaborate safety nets, and believe we can navigate life’s storms with sheer willpower. But suffering shatters this illusion. A chronic illness can leave us tethered to medication, and a loved one’s death exposes the raw fragility of life. In these moments, when we feel adrift, lament – the honest expression of pain to God – becomes our only oar. Lament is the only tool we have when the truth strikes us that we are not in control.

In The Beginning

Lament acknowledges our dependence on a force outside ourselves, a wellspring of comfort and strength we can turn to in hardship. The concept stretches back to humanity’s beginnings. Michael Card, in “A Sacred Sorrow,” suggests lament began with Adam and Eve’s loss of God’s presence in Eden. Their initial trust was broken, leading to feelings of isolation and vulnerability (Genesis 3:10). God was there, but they didn’t feel it. As we’ll see in a moment, when we don’t feel God’s presence, there is a way back.

We can only imagine the complexity of God’s emotions in this scenario. He created humans with free will, but witnessing their choice to break trust must have brought deep sorrow. Genesis 3 showcases the consequences of mistrust – a broken relationship and a feeling of separation.

Yet, God comes looking.

Adam’s response to God’s call (“Where are you?”) was to hide. This is a primal human reaction to pain. We isolate ourselves, fearing further exposure. But beneath the surface lies a yearning for understanding: “What’s going on here? If God loved me, then why all this pain?”

My First Major Encounter With Lament

These questions become especially poignant when we witness the suffering of loved ones. While caring for my mother in her final months, I grappled with these questions constantly. Each act of administering medication or picking her up to move her from the bed to the wheelchair reminded me of life’s fragility. Yet, facing this pain with raw honesty in lament became the bridge back to God’s presence. It was a daily surrender, a paradoxical path to my own daily redemption through suffering. This echoes the core message of discipleship: victory through surrender, and strength through letting go.

My own lament mirrored that of Adam and Eve. “I’m afraid,” became my constant prayer during the summer and fall of 2015. Suffering exposed my vulnerabilities. I could ignore it with optimism or run towards the One who could offer solace. It wasn’t a joy, but that’s what I did. In a moment I’ll share how.

Running From Pain

The story of what Jesus’ disciples did after his crucifixion exemplifies our tendency to run from pain. Witnessing their beloved teacher’s brutal death, they were heartbroken and disoriented. They hid in a room together with the doors locked (probably fearing they were next on the hit list).

When my kids were small and scared, I would tell them the story of how Jesus walked through the walls of that room to bring comfort and words of encouragement. Do you know what he said? “Peace be with you” (John 19:19-20). You know his presence is near when you sense those words.

From our youngest times, it is difficult to imagine redemption when we’re in pain. This is why lament is crucial, even for kids. It allows us to express our pain and confusion honestly to God. I haven’t always been good at this, but I’m getting better. Lament is a way of acknowledging our vulnerability and seeking comfort in his presence. Michael Card emphasizes this point, stating, “…We must regain the tearful trail. We must relearn lament” (Sacred Sorrow, p. 20).

Finding Your Voice of Lament

So how can we lament? Lament requires honesty. It’s about pouring out our pain, confusion, and even anger to God. There’s no need for flowery language or theological precision. Lament is raw and real. It can be spoken prayers, written words, or even creative expressions like music or art. The key is to be authentic and allow your true feelings to surface. Here are some prompts to get you started:

• God, where are you in all this pain?
• I feel angry and confused. Why is this happening to me?
• I miss (name of loved one) so much. It hurts to live without them.
• I’m scared. I don’t know what the future holds.

Remember, there are no right or wrong ways to lament. Simply allow yourself to be vulnerable before God.

The Lament Journey

Lament is not a one-time event; it’s a journey. There will be times when your prayers are filled with anger and despair. Other times, you might experience moments of peace and gratitude amidst the pain. The important thing is to keep showing up and expressing your heart to God.

As you lament, allow yourself to be open to God’s presence. He may not take away your suffering, but he can offer comfort, strength, and even hope in the midst of it. Through lament, you may discover a deeper connection with God and a newfound resilience in the face of life’s challenges.

Lament is not a sign of weakness; it’s a sign of courage. It’s the courage to be honest about your pain, to trust that God can handle your raw emotions, and to believe that even in the darkest moments, there is still hope. Fear not. Let your tears flow, let your voice be heard, and allow God to meet you in your brokenness.

In my next blog, I’ll share about the value of tears and about the time I went to the desert to weep for four days straight. If you missed the first blog about grief, read it here.

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