
When Kennedy died, I felt affirmed whenever I quickly diverted my attention from the pain to the Lord — spiritualizing her death, turning every conversation from loss to the hope of glory.
Those truths are precious and absolutely true. The promises of God are the steady ballast that keeps us from capsizing in the storms of life.
Those promises never require us to pretend there isn't a storm. The Lord never calls us to deny our suffering — He invites us to bring it to Him.
There is a difference between crying, "Lord, help me" and "Lord, I am crushed. I don't understand this. I feel overwhelmed by this loss." Lament teaches us to bring our whole selves before the Lord — our grief, confusion, disappointment, fears, sins, and questions.
David didn't simply write a lament — he commanded that it be taught. Why? Because God's people need to know how to grieve faithfully. David understood that lament wasn't merely appropriate for that moment in Israel's history; it was a discipline every generation would need.
They needed to know how to bring pain into the presence of God instead of pretending it wasn't there. And so do we.
"Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice." — Philippians 4:4
This verse has many Christians feeling they cannot lament sin, loss, or injustice — as if it is more spiritual to deny pain than acknowledge it. But Paul was no stranger to hardship. He despaired nearly to the point of death and prayed multiple times for his "thorn in the flesh" to be removed. He wasn't happy about it.
"We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame." — Romans 5:3–5
Suffering is a process — but only when we actually process it. When we deny pain and bury it deep inside, we claim to have forgiven, recovered, or repented when in reality we've simply painted over the rot. Eventually, it catches up with us in bitterness, anger, or worse.
Lament is not despair. As Mark Vroegop defines it in Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy, lament is "a prayer of pain that leads to trust."
Lament is inherently faithful — its very essence is crying out to the personal God who made you, loves you, and sent His Son to die for you.
Lament isn't about venting or simply feeling better. It's about bringing our pain into God's presence so He can transform us through it — retraining mind and heart.
Synthesized from Scripture and Mark Vroegop's work in Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy, these four steps form the biblical pattern for bringing our pain faithfully into God's presence — not bypassing the storm, but walking through it with Him.
When we lament, we direct our lamentation to Him — entering His presence in our darkest hour. In the words of Hebrews, we "draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." (Hebrews 4:16)
We act faithfully when we lament because we take God at His word and present ourselves humbly before Him.
We tell the Lord how it feels — even if how it feels isn't how it actually is. When Mark Vroegop's wife Sarah prayed, "Lord, I know you are not mean, but it feels like you are today," she modeled this faithful honesty.
Sixty-five psalms and the entire book of Lamentations are filled with this kind of honesty. Denial is a ditch we fall into — and it circumvents healing, because without accepting the hurt, there is rarely a request for help.
Jesus Himself taught His disciples to pray with shameless boldness — illustrated in Luke 11 by the man who roused his neighbor at midnight until he received what he needed. The psalms model this throughout:
"Hide not your face from your servant, for I am in distress; make haste to answer me. Draw near to my soul, redeem me; ransom me because of my enemies!" — Psalm 69:17–18
In lament, we are not gauging feasibility or setting parameters for God. We pray what is on our hearts — asking the Lord to act according to His character: to right the wrong, heal the wound, provide the need, relieve the pain. Then we trust Him with the results.
"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us." Even when we do not feel His presence, Scripture confirms He is near. (John 1:14)
Even when we wonder if He cares, we return to the truth: "…He cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7)
"For those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)
What brought the psalmist to hope-filled worship in the midst of darkness was not mental toughness, but remembrance of the mighty deeds of the Lord: "Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God?" (Psalm 77:13)
As Vroegop beautifully points out, we need look no further than the cross of Christ to see and know the love of God made manifest in the greatest work of God ever known.
Whenever we face darkness, despair, grief, loneliness, betrayal, loss, or disappointment — whether from the sins of others or our own — let us turn to the Lord's deep mercy. Let us plant the stake of the cross of Christ in the ground as an ever-present reminder of the God who has called us His own and the price He paid to make it so.
Some of you don't need another Bible verse today. You know the verses. What you need is permission to bring your broken heart to the God those verses reveal.
We Don't Have to Pretend There Isn't a Storm