Lament: The Forgotten but Valuable Spiritual Exercise

How does one write about something they’ve rarely experienced? That is the question I have been asking myself as I thought about my subject for this article—lament. For a very large swath of American Christianity, the biblical practice of lament is a foreign exercise. I must include myself in that large group.

Growing up, the church in which I was involved did not mention it, let alone offer space to practice it. After deciding to follow Jesus while a college student, lament was not mentioned or expressed. I knew little about it for decades. Ironically, one of my favorite passages has always been from Lamentations—3:22-24:

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. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”  (NIV 2011)        

Jeremiah wrote this book lamenting the exile of the Israelites and the fall of Jerusalem. Four of the five chapters are full of lament. I find it interesting that the passage I chose to focus on was the most positive and hopeful while ignoring the implications of the rest of the book. Yet, this really is the norm for American Christians. Not much room is allowed for sadness or despair and the expression of it.

My father died over my college’s Thanksgiving Break. When I returned for our ministry’s first worship service after the break, I spoke very positively about my dad’s eternal destiny, but what was not expressed was how gutted I was by his death, how frustrated I was with the medical care he received, and how disappointed I was in the Lord that the promise I had received from Him (“This sickness will not end in death.” John 11:4) eight months prior had been so short-lived.

Just over a year later when my mother was diagnosed with metastatic ovarian cancer, I knew by then I had to handle my grief differently and I did. But still I was without the spiritual tool of lament. I talked to a counselor. I talked to friends. However, I didn’t spill the mixed contents of my heart out to the Lord. I prayed for healing. I prayed for peace. I prayed for strength. I didn’t, however, confess my anger and disappointment at Him for the suffering my mother was enduring and how it had negatively impacted me, particularly since I had recently been through a similar experience with my father. Those expressions, I had concluded, were not to be expressed by followers of Jesus. My hope was in the Lord; that was to be enough.

All through my ministry, I wasn’t hesitant to tell students that the Lord can handle our anger, but I never really gave them an example or template of what that looked like. It just wasn’t a part of my Christian mindset. I prayed for things, but I never lamented over those in my life. And lament is not just for personal focus. As with Jeremiah, his lament regarded his nation. During my tenure in campus ministry, there was the Challenger explosion, the Clinton scandals, the first Iraq war, 9/11, the Afghan war and the second war in Iraq. There were the pro-abortion and pro-life rallies facing off against one another. There were the Westboro Baptist Church protests, universities pushing back against Christians, I could go on and on. The point is I never gave students the understanding they could be terribly sad or angry at was happening around them and to them (past and present) and feel free to lament any of it before the Lord.

I think the first time I experienced lament was during the Covid pandemic. It was for the Church. When churches started pushing back against gathering restrictions, my wife and I saw a missed opportunity for Christians to pray, reflect, and repent for the shortcomings of the American Church and to seek a re-set. We cried out to the Lord with sadness in our hearts that fellow believers did not perceive the opportunity we were being given. Instead, they demanded the freedom to continue to do things the way they were accustomed to doing them. (I’m not wanting to get into an argument over this. I am merely giving an example of my first experience with lament.)

And now that I am no longer on campus but have continued to experience difficult situations in my life, I am just starting to embrace lament as an occasional but necessary spiritual exercise. It is not easy because it is outside of my experience and comfort. Yet, realizing that there is much lament in the Scriptures, (Jeremiah, the Psalmist, Job, and Jesus, to name a few), I recognize it must have spiritual value. And it isn’t easy because of the general lack of practice of it in the American Church.

I was recently at a prayer gathering for a family that has been experiencing a long-term health crisis with one of their children. It has been going on for nearly 20 years. There were prayers for healing and declarations of healing. The prayers were full of hope and expectation. I wondered if the parents ever felt able to express any lament of the situation they found themselves in. What I know of them would lead me to think perhaps they did not. They are strong, devout believers and believe in the healing power of the Lord. They are also ones that just push through difficulties. People often marvel at their fortitude in the face of struggles. Yet, I couldn’t get this thought out of my mind: Do they feel they have permission to lament? I believe that thought was from the Lord, and it stayed in my mind. I resolved if I was called upon to say anything, I would share that thought, even though I believed that in the context, it would not be readily accepted by those praying such hopeful prayers.

The opportunity did present itself when I was asked to anoint the father with oil and pray for him. I admit my discomfort with sharing my thought, but I was convinced it was from the Lord. So, I anointed the father and told him and his wife that I believed the Lord wanted them to know they had permission to lament the condition of their son and the chaotic circumstances of their lives as a result. That they didn’t have to ignore whatever frustration and disappointment that may have built up over the years. They could feel free to express it to the Lord. I could not tell how they felt about what I said, but I know that no one prayed in kind. Prayers continued to focus on hope and healing. I felt like an outlier that was tolerated but not embraced. Perhaps I was viewed as one lacking faith in the healing power of God. Honestly, I’m not sure, but I do believe the thought of lament as a legitimate expression of feelings to the Lord landed flat in the room.

My other experience with lament was several years ago when I was struggling with the aftermath of a relational situation with two staff members that occurred at my last campus ministry. I was struggling with anger and bitterness. At the urging of my wife and another friend, I participated in a guided personal retreat to deal with significant hurt. In one of the meetings with the men guiding me, I began to lament to the Lord my deep hurt and disappointment in the situation, the broken relationships that occurred, and how preventable it all was. Tears began to flow, then turned to sobs. In retrospect, I needed that lament and regret waiting so long to do it. The lament didn’t solve everything, but it helped me to get back on the path of trusting the Lord and embracing His peace. Yet, it wasn’t until recently that I saw this or the other one as a practice of lament. Now I have begun to see through a new lens.

There is a steep learning curve for me when it comes to the practice of lament. I am an infant trying to learn to crawl and then walk. Yet, I believe that with everything going on in our country, the world, and in our own lives, lament is sometimes a necessary and useful tool to help us deal with the realities of a fallen and broken world.

Until next time . . .

© Jim Musser 2026