
8/13/25 Learning to Lament
- Fr. Patrick Bush

- Aug 12
- 4 min read
Takeaway: Lament is not the absence of faith but an act of worship that gives voice to our pain and anchors us in the faithful love of God.
“I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” — Lamentations 3:19-23
Opening Prayer (Wednesday)
Father, in the middle of this week, I lean on You for strength. When I am weary, be my rest. When I am uncertain, be my guide. Refresh my soul as I draw near to You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Reflection
Lament is not a word we use often, and even less a practice we know how to embrace. In many Christian circles, today, lamenting is misunderstood as a lack of faith, or an uncomfortable emotion to suppress. But scripture tells a different story. Lamenting is not weakness, rather it is a form of worship. It is not faithlessness, rather it is an act of deep trust. The book of Lamentations teaches us that grief and hope are not enemies; they are companions. In Lamentations 3, we find a voice crying out from the wreckage of Jerusalem, a prophet who refuses to sugarcoat the suffering he sees. He does not hide his pain. He names it. And in naming it, he makes room for healing to begin.
Honest grief is the beginning of real hope. That may sound backwards to us, but it is the rhythm of biblical faith we find throughout scripture. The Bible is a story of a people who learned to cry out to God in their anguish. The psalms are filled with laments. Job wrestled with unexplainable loss. Jesus wept at the tomb of a friend and cried out from the cross. To lament is to bring our brokenness before God, not cleaned up or polished, but raw and real. It is to say, “This hurts, Lord,” and trust that He is still listening. Lament doesn’t mean we’ve given up on God; it means we are turning to Him with our questions, and our sorrows. Lamenting is the groaning of the Spirit within us, too deep for words.
In the heart of Jeremiah’s lament, something remarkable happens. He says, “Yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope.” Jeremiah shifts from remembering his sorrow to remembering his God. He does not deny the pain, but he refuses to let it have the final word. He recalls the character of the Lord: steadfast love, endless compassion, new mercies each morning. He doesn’t feel this hope, he calls it to mind. Sometimes hope must be fought for. Sometimes it comes not in a wave of emotion but in a stubborn act of remembrance. The God who allowed the city to fall is the same God whose mercies are never exhausted. The God who permitted the storm is the same God who walks with us through it. And He is faithful.
Learning to lament means learning to hold both grief and grace in the same hands. It means we stop pretending we’re fine and begin pouring out our souls to the One who knows them best. It means we give ourselves permission to mourn. In a world quick to distract or dismiss suffering, lamenting calls us to slow down and listen to our pain, and to the pain of others. It creates space where healing can begin. And as we do, hope begins to shine on us, not always quickly, but steadily. We begin to see that God’s faithfulness isn’t a distant idea, but a lifeline in the darkness.
If you are in a season of sorrow; don’t rush through it. Don’t be ashamed of the tears that come. Learn to lament. Cry out to God with honesty, and anchor your soul in His faithfulness. Remember that lamenting is not the opposite of worship, it is a deep form of it. Lamenting is a bridge between brokenness and hope.
Questions
When have you felt pressure to suppress your grief instead of expressing it before God?
What would it look like for you to lament honestly in your current season of life?
Application
Set aside time to write your own prayer of lament, naming your sorrow honestly before God and then, like Jeremiah, recalling His steadfast love and mercies. Allow yourself space to grieve, and trust that hope will rise in the remembering.
Closing Prayer
Lord, teach me to lament with honesty and trust. Help me not to hide my sorrow, but to bring it to You, who sees, hears, and heals. Anchor my hope in Your faithful love, and help me find worship in my weeping. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
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