The Biblical Process of Lament

In this age of friends losing loved ones, of Pandemic culture shock, and economic uncertainty, we are all experiencing some degree of pain and loss. And not all of our problems are new; systemic injustices continue, divisions and echo chambers feel as deep as ever, and as a result, most people I know are either just avoiding the news and social media or exhausting themselves trying their best to keep up with it all. 

There are a lot of ways we can learn to care better for others right now; I drew up an easy, approachable list of things to do for NYC several weeks ago. But what does emotional health look like right now? How does the Bible teach us to address pain? 

Lament. The Biblical answer is a process called Lament that is rarely practiced or even understood. When I was asked how I was lamenting at the beginning of quarantine, I didn’t even know how to answer! Since then I’ve learned more about that process and wanted to break it down in an understandable way, as it was broken down for me: 

The Biblical process of Lament:

1. Turning towards God. The phrase, “It’s not a religion, it’s a relationship” has become tired and easy to tune out, but in pain, it can be helpful to remember. Often, people think they are “still a Christian” because they still agree with a series of beliefs; this is tantamount to believing you’re still married without considering the state of your marriage. It’s true, but probably not the best way to be thinking about it. In marriages and friendships, we can see more clearly that our bent in pain is withdrawal. We don’t want to expend energy and effort; we don’t want to be vulnerable, potentially misunderstood; we may blame the people closest to us, rationally or irrationally, for the hurt that we’re feeling. This bent also affects our inner spiritual lives, whether we realize it or not, so in our pain, the most common response is to shut off our relationship with God and pull away from any kind of intimacy with Him. 

 Turning towards God looks much the same as reaching out does in our earthly relationships: it’s a simple, loving extension of communication and openness to relationship. Often this can start with, “I am really mad at you,” or “I feel really numb right now.” In fact, it should lead us into: 

2. Complaint. God is good, but life is hard, so rather than dismissing our feelings, we go to God with them. It’s super easy for people to feel like there is some sin in complaint -- but the BIble itself is full of heroes complaining to God and acknowledging their hardships before Him. When in doubt, try praying the Bible, and reading through a Psalm like Psalm 13 or Psalm 22 to allow King David, a “man after God’s own heart,” to give your pain words. 

You may not relate to everything he writes about -- being chased down by enemies, hiding in rocky mountains… Rather than spiritualize and metaphor that, realize that this is because David was complaining about his actual life circumstances, setting an example that hopefully you would follow. Maybe instead of complaining about a king trying to kill you, you could complain about being stuck inside? Instead of mountains, your “home office?” 

This is like a surgeon’s initial incision; you can’t just open up wounds and let them fester, but instead, you’re cutting in for a greater, healing purpose. So this should lead us healthily into… 

3. Asking boldly. Our pain should lead us to understand our powerlessness, which should lead us to understand God's might. Every single thing we are hurting for -- every loss we experience, every uncertainty we face -- reminds us of the painful realities that we and the world we live in are broken and limited. We are reminded of death, perhaps facing our mortality for the first time. We are reminded of evil, when it takes social media shaming to motivate any semblance of justice from people in power. We are reminded of our own weakness, day in and day out, when we can’t choose to do and be all that we know is right. Plucky can-do optimism is foolish and minimizing; admitting defeat is the only way. But the reason that’s true and yet doesn’t rest well with us is -- defeat is not the end of the story. 

Unlike people we may turn to, God always knows the right way to help. Unlike our peers, He is perfectly powerful to actually do so. Big needs like the ones we’re facing should draw us into asking for even bigger miracles. God has worked healings, risen the dead, split open seas, fed thousands, changed the minds of rulers, broken down walls… Most of the time, we think we don’t need very much from him, and so we ask him for little. But in times like these, we are all united by need for him to help us in big ways. So we cry out shamelessly for help, vulnerable as it may feel to do so, and then… 

 4. Choosing to trust. Trust is not a matter of feeling; it is a matter of will. We might not end this process feeling a lot better about everything, but we can end with a commitment to continue coming to God and to say “Okay,” when he says “I hear you.” Trying to trust God after making big asks is not emotionally easy, but claiming to trust God without asking for anything communicates that you don’t, in fact, trust him to care about or work mightily in the midst of your pain. There is no shortcut to this step; lamentation requires all four of these things. But then the trust here, at the end, is more meaningful. 

If you need someone to process with you or walk through lamentation together, drop us a line! You are not alone; we are all going through this. I pray God brings good friends around you in the midst of your pain.

We Were Made for Love

A pair of poems