Embracing the grace of lament
Wondering where to go when loss enters your life? You can be encouraged through the biblical practice of lament.
Over the past three years, my wife, Judy, and I have conducted several soul-care retreats in Japan, offering missionaries a chance to get away from the busyness of ministry, reengage with God in a meaningful way, and be encouraged by God’s Word. One retreat session addresses an often overlooked reality of missionary life: ungrieved losses.
This topic doesn’t usually make it into prayer letters sent to supporters. Nor is it usually discussed within mission organizations. This is a “behind the scenes” type of issue, which continues to impact people in profound ways, in both their personal lives and ministries, and it rarely receives the attention it deserves.
No matter who you are, at some point, you have experienced loss—whether the loss of a family member or the loss of a dream, a valued possession, or a friend who has moved away or returned to his or her passport country. But no matter the depth of the loss, there is a biblical way to deal with grief: through the grace of “lament.”
What is lament?
In his excellent book Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy: Discovering the Grace of Lament, Mark Vroegop focuses attention on this much neglected concept and practice.
What is lament? Lament can be defined as a loud cry, a howl, or a passionate expression of grief. However, in the Bible lament is more than expressing sorrow or talking about our sadness. It is more than walking through the stages of grief. Lament is a prayer in pain that leads to trust.1
Lament doesn’t try to quickly find answers to pain or loss; it doesn’t seek to just get over it. Lament gives permission to the suffering person to wrestle with sorrow instead of rushing to end it.
The author calls lament “a minor-key language for my suffering.”2 The practice of lament—the kind that is biblical, honest, and redemptive—is not natural for us because every lament is a prayer. It’s a statement of faith. Lament is the honest cry of a hurting heart wrestling with the paradox of pain and the promise of God’s goodness.
Biblical lament is rooted in what we believe. It is prayer loaded with theology. Christians affirm that the world is broken, that God is powerful, and that he will be faithful. Therefore, lament stands in the gap between pain and promise. To cry is human, but to lament is Christian.3
Type the word “lament” in the Bible search engine BibleGateway.com (ESV) and you’ll find around 60 entries of the word or its derivatives. Many of the entries are found in the Old Testament, with the majority in the prophets (especially Jeremiah). And of course, right after the woes in Jeremiah is the book of Lamentations, written as the judgement of the Lord fell on Israel. If God devoted an entire book of the Bible to noting the lamentations of his people, then surely it must be something to which we need to pay attention.
About one-third of the 150 psalms are laments. Among the four types of lament psalms, the majority are personal. But in the Bible we also find community laments (like Lamentations) and repentant laments (like David’s in Psalm 51), as well as imprecatory laments where an individual or group expresses outrage and a strong desire for justice. The pattern of lament in the Psalms usually includes an address to God, a complaint, a request, and an expression of trust and/or praise.
How do we pray a lament?
So if biblical lament is a prayer, how are we to pray? What is the focus of our prayer when all we want to do is cry out to God—or give him the silent treatment? Using Psalm 77, Vroegop walks us through the steps of lament, helping us process our loss without losing our trust in God.
First, he says to pray your struggles (verses 1–6). The one in pain calls out to get God’s attention. Grief is not tame. Lament is not a simplistic formula. Indeed, lament is the song you sing, believing that one day God will answer and restore. Lament invites us to pray as we struggle with a life that is far from perfect.4
The psalmist is honest, authentic, and raw, knowing that the Father desires honesty more than flowery words. We’re not told why the psalmist is in pain, and even though his hand is stretched out in prayer, his soul refuses to be comforted.
Have you ever been in that much pain? So much pain that it reached to the very depth of your soul?
The rawest example of lament I experienced as a pastor came from news that the young adult daughter of a church member had been murdered in another city. Along with the shock of that reality came a flood of tears and wailing I have never forgotten. As I hugged the mother in her time of grief, the depth of her emotion flowed freely from the deepest part of her soul. There were no answers to be given. There was only the comforting presence of the Father. While the ugliness of that violent crime was very real, so was the intense trust this mother had in her God.
Pray your struggles. He hears, and while he may not answer in a way you desire, keep praying.
Second, pray your questions (verses 7–9). We don’t have to be afraid of questions that arise in our hearts and minds when grief has us by the throat. The psalmist wasn’t afraid to ask God questions. And God is not afraid of our questions. He can handle them. We need not fear expressing what besieges our mind during times of sorrow and grief. It’s okay to pray your questions.
Third, prayer turns us around as we remember (verses 10–15). Lament is a prayer that leads us through personal sorrow and difficult questions into truth that anchors our soul.
The entire psalm shifts with the word “then” in verse 10 when the psalmist begins to remember the Lord: “I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High” (ESV). The right hand of God refers to the expression of God’s power—the deeds and wonders he has done to save and preserve his people.
In verse 13 we reach a rhetorical question very different from the previous six: “What god is great like our God?” It’s an important turning point, moving from honest questions to confident trust. While we may still be in pain, lament reminds our hearts of what we believe to be true. Remember as you pray, and keep turning to God. He may be “behind the scenes,” but he’s there.
Finally, pray the gospel (verses 16–20). Psalm 77 concludes with the ultimate moment that defined the people of Israel and their relationship with God: the exodus. They could do nothing on their own with the sea before them and the Egyptians behind them. Only God could come through for them, and he did. They were delivered by the action of their God.
For the Christian, our exodus event—the place where we find ultimate deliverance—is the cross of Christ.5 The cross shows us that God has already proven himself to be for us and not against us. The cross points to the greatest injustice and reason to lament, yet it is the greatest outcome for the world—the salvation available through the shed blood of Jesus Christ.
The last verse of Psalm 77 reminds us that God is our Good Shepherd. In the New Testament, that Good Shepherd is Jesus, the one who feeds, nurtures, and sacrifices for his flock. Even through the hard times, the shepherd is there for the flock, present with them in the harshest conditions of wind or rain or snow or cold or heat. He’s there caring for and loving them. Ultimately this is our anchor: the gospel and the love God has for us. Lament can carry us through as we pray the gospel.
When in pain, let lament be your new language
If the music of your life right now feels more like it’s in a minor key than a major key, know that he hasn’t forsaken you; you can still look to him in faith. Don’t give God the silent treatment. Frustration and discouragement might tempt you to stop talking to him. Your pain can instead be a path toward God, if you’ll allow lament to be your new language.
When you find you don’t have the words, read a psalm of lament out loud. Linger over it. Let it open your heart. Whatever you do, don’t stop talking with God. Keep wrestling. Keep struggling. Keep embracing the grace of lament.6
1. Mark Vroegop, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy: Discovering the Grace of Lament (Wheaton: Crossway, 2019), 28.
2. Ibid., 17.
3. Ibid., 26.
4. Ibid., 33.
5. Ibid., 37.
6. Ibid., 38.