A few days ago, I shared some of what’s been stirring in my heart as I process the devastation in Central Texas. I talked about lament—the kind of honest prayer that holds nothing back. And so many of you told me it felt like a weight lifted. Like finally, someone said it’s okay to bring your messy, hurting heart to God. That you don’t have to tie a pretty bow on your prayers or pretend everything’s fine. That wrestling with God in your questions doesn’t disqualify your faith. It actually deepens it.

But what really undid me were the stories you shared in return. Stories of heartbreak stacked on heartbreak. Some of you are reeling from the tragedy of the floods. Others are carrying griefs closer to home—parents gone too soon, marriages falling apart, babies lost before they ever took a breath.

If that’s you today, please hear this: You are not alone in your grief. I see you. But far more important than that—God sees you. He is near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18).

And I know this, not just because the Bible says it (though that would be enough). I know it because I’ve lived it.

Grief and I go way back.

Between the ages of 14 and 20, I lost nine of my peers and my joyful 13-year-old cousin. Most of those losses were tragic, senseless—accidents, suicides—the kind of things a teenage heart and mind simply can’t make sense of.

Maybe one day I’ll write more of that season here. But for now, just know: I’ve sat in the dark places, too.

And God met me there.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but when I look back now—flipping through the tear-stained pages of my old journals—I see it. Even as a teenager, I was learning to lament. I didn’t have the language for it yet. I hadn’t yet taken a class on Lamentations or heard a sermon on the theology of lament. But somehow, I was already doing it: bringing my pain to God, asking hard questions, and learning to trust Him in the dark.

Now, decades later, I recognize lament as one of the most powerful, healing practices in my walk with Jesus. It strengthened my faith and helped me engage with a really personal God.

So, if you’re walking through a hard season, maybe it could help you too.

What Is Lament, Really?

In its simplest form, lament is a prayer of pain that leads to trust.

It’s not just venting to feel better.
It’s not rage-tweeting your complaints or blaming or fixing.
It’s not disrespectful, though it is raw and real.

Lament is an honest, humble cry to the God who hears.

If you’ve never prayed a lament before (or you’re not sure where to start), here’s a simple framework we see in Scripture—especially in the Psalms:

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How to Pray a Lament:

1. Address God.
   Start by turning toward Him. You’re talking to your Heavenly Father, not just tossing your words into the air. It’s reverent, but it’s allowed to be raw. Hebrews 4:16 invites us to “approach the throne of grace with confidence.”
2. Describe Your Pain.
   Tell Him where it hurts. Name your losses, your fears, your questions. He welcomes your honesty.
3. Ask for Help.
   Crying out for rescue is an act of faith. It shows that—even when you’re hurting—you know who your help comes from. (Psalm 121:1–2)
4. Choose to Trust.
   Almost every biblical lament takes a turn toward trust. It’s not because the pain is gone, but because the psalmist remembers God’s goodness. Like Psalm 13:5–6 says: “But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because He has dealt bountifully with me.”

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A Next Step for You

Maybe today’s the day you try it.

Grab a journal. Or whisper a prayer on your drive to work. Write your own psalm of lament. Tell God what hurts. Ask Him to meet you there. And then—however shakey your steps may be—choose to trust Him as you walk through the dark.

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Sources:

Desiring God: Dare to Hope in God by Mark Vroegop

And I Will Praise Him: A Guide to Worship in the Psalms by Dr. Ron Allen