Spotlight
Learning to Lament
By Jessica Sanford
By nature, I tend to shy away from negative emotions, preferring a world where everyone is happy and there’s no conflict. (Yes, I do realize this kind of world does not exist this side of heaven, but one can always dream!) As a result of my desire to avoid all things negative, I have sometimes struggled to admit to myself, to God, or to others those moments when hurt or sadness or fear or anxiety or discouragement or even anger have invaded my heart. I have erroneously believed to do so made me appear weak or whiny or somehow un-Christian. (Nobody likes a weak or whiny Christian. Am I right?)
I have erroneously believed my “faith” obligated me to deal with my emotions quickly and move on, never really giving myself permission to “feel” for too long, absorbing the negative circumstance and continuing on as if everything were fine (when everything wasn’t fine). I felt the sting, but my reaction was more of a whimper rather than a shout. After all, Christians don’t despair; they might cry, but only a little. Or so I thought.
Apparently, Christians are also super-human.
These patterns worked – until they didn’t – and I have spent the past several months coming face to face with some places of sorrow and disappointment I had never given myself permission to fully feel. I call these places “pain spots.”
If we are honest, we all have pain spots, areas in our lives that for lack of a better word, stink! A difficult boss, a troubled marriage, a prodigal child, broken relationships, unfulfilled dreams, unfair treatment, loneliness, betrayal, a bleak medical prognosis, lingering anxiety, physical and mental exhaustion, financial hardship, deep sorrow, the loss of a loved one. The list is seemingly endless. What do we do with these pain spots and the emotions they invoke? Though not an exhaustive list, some unhealthy responses might include denial, avoidance, withdrawal, isolation, victimhood, lashing out, self-harm, and self-medicating.
The reality is that we are emotional beings who face an array of both positive and negative emotions every day. To deny our emotions is to deny our humanness. As I am learning, emotionally healthy people learn to lean in to their emotions rather than brush them aside. They learn how to manage their emotions in appropriate, God-honoring ways. They are willing to be honest about what they are feeling, and they are willing to take the steps necessary to walk in wholeness.
In her book How to Survive as a Pastor’s Wife, author Christine Hoover identified some of the challenges ministry leaders face. Though there are many joys, to be sure, there are also challenges. To ignore this fact would be dishonest. How can leaders navigate these inevitable challenges well? Hoover introduces a practice I had not considered. One way to process the hard places of ministry (and life) is through the practice of lament.
What exactly is lament? Lament can be defined as a passionate expression of grief or sorrow.
However, as Mark Vroegop points out in his book Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy: Discovering the Grace of Lament, “In the Bible lament is more than sorrow or talking about sadness. It is more than walking through the stages of grief. Lament is a prayer in pain that leads to trust.”i Vroegop goes on to describe biblical lament as “the honest cry of a hurting heart wrestling with the paradox of pain and the promise of God’s goodness.”ii Or put another way, “Lament is how you live between the poles of a hard life and trusting in God’s sovereignty.”iii
Learning how to cultivate the skill of lament is healthy and biblical, and it can be a powerful tool in helping us process our emotions and pain spots. The Psalms are full of laments, making up about one third of the entire book.iv And an entire book of the Bible, Lamentations, is dedicated to lament.
David expressed lament in Psalms 13 (NLT):
O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever?
How long will you look the other way?
How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul,
with sorrow in my heart every day?
How long will my enemy have the upper hand?Turn and answer me, O Lord my God!
Restore the sparkle to my eyes, or I will die.
Don’t let my enemies gloat, saying, “We have defeated him!”
Don’t let them rejoice at my downfall.But I trust in your unfailing love.
I will rejoice because you have rescued me.
I will sing to the Lord
because he is good to me.
Clearly, we don’t live in a continual state of lament. There is a greater purpose to lament than merely grieving for grieving’s sake, so how do we practice biblical lament?
- Turn toward God in prayer. The turning is important because it signifies our desire to look to God for help. When hope feels distant, we turn to the God who hears our cries and sees our tears. “O, Lord, you hear the desire of the afflicted; you will strengthen their heart; you will incline your ear” (Psalm 10:17, ESV). “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book” (Psalm 56:8, NLT).
- Talk to God about what’s wrong. Tell Him all of it! He already knows what’s taking place inside our hearts, but He is waiting for us to voice it to Him. This is where keeping a journal can be especially helpful. (Sometimes it helps me to get my thoughts down on paper before trying to verbalize them.) It’s important not to rush this step. Lament can feel unnatural because it requires us to sit with our feelings for longer than we are often comfortable.
- Trust in God. Keep moving toward trust by asking God to help you get there. “Strengthened confidence in God’s trustworthiness is the destination of all lament.”v Lament is not a quick fix; rather, it’s a journey toward deeper faith and trust in God. And while our circumstances may not change, through lament “God redirects our gaze” and reminds us of His goodness right in the middle of our pain.vi
I have been practicing lament, voicing my pain spots to the Lord, and allowing Him to redirect my gaze. It’s messy and raw and profound and completely out of my comfort zone. (Did I mention I don’t like negative emotions?) I only wish I had discovered the skill of lament much, much earlier.
Perhaps you have some pain spots you need to bring before the Lord? Biblical lament can be one tool in helping you navigate those hard places. I’d encourage you to get some tissues and give it a try. Blessings, friends!
For a fuller understanding of biblical lament, Mark Vroegop’s book, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy is very helpful.
[i] Mark Vroegop, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy: Discovering the Grace of Lament (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2019), 28.
[ii] Vroegop, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy, 26.
[iii] Vroegop, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy, 21.
[iv] www.gotquestions.org/lament
[v] Mark Vroegop, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy Devotional Journal (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2022), 14
[vi] Christine Hoover, How to Thrive as a Pastor’s Wife (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2022), 90.
About the Author
Jessica Sanford has served alongside her husband, Matt, in ministry for over two decades. She is a licensed coach with Leader Breakthru, Inc. and is passionate about making disciples and helping facilitate the spiritual transformation of those not content with the status quo. She also loves seeing women in ministry, especially other pastors’ wives, realize and step into their unique calling.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9 NIV).
There is a quiet invitation woven through these words – an invitation into constant, total dependence on God. We often imagine maturity as having our act together, managing our lives with unshakable strength. But in God’s kingdom, maturity looks nothing like self-reliance. It looks like surrender.
… in God’s kingdom, maturity looks nothing like self-reliance. It looks like surrender.
Just as valleys are watered with rain and become fruitful while lofty mountains remain dry, so it is with our hearts. The low places – the humbling, honest valleys – are where God’s grace pools and grows us. The heights of self-confidence, the illusions that we’ve got everything under control, stay barren.
Grace is not just God’s favor; it is His love set in motion toward us. When Paul begged God to remove the thorn in his life, God didn’t take it away. He gave Paul something far more powerful: grace. Sometimes relief comes by His removing the burden, but sometimes God strengthens the shoulders that carry it.
This past year, I’ve walked through my own valleys in ways I could never have anticipated. An abnormal mammogram led to surgery, which revealed breast cancer. By God’s miraculous hand, the tumor was removed completely, with clear margins and no spread although the tumor was dangerously close to my lymph nodes – a reminder of God’s perfect timing, protection, and faithfulness.
But the challenges didn’t end there. Amid cancer treatment, autoimmune flare-ups, and the toll on my body, I experienced alarming numbness on the left side of my face, suddenly losing strength in my left arm and leg. A trip to the ER revealed a nearly blocked right carotid artery, a tear likely caused by a fall I’d taken months prior, and a blood clot that could have caused a massive stroke.
Yet in the middle of chaos as we prepared for worst case scenarios, God’s grace showed up. Within a day of their being detected, scans revealed that both the clot and tear were gone. Every doctor involved was astonished. I was walking, speaking, and moving with minimal effects – a miracle too clear to dismiss.
In these moments, I’ve learned that we don’t truly trust God’s grace until we first admit we are insufficient. It’s easier to believe in grace for the past or the future. But grace for this moment, right here, in the pressing reality of fear, pain, and uncertainty, requires a present-tense, radical faith.
God didn’t just supplement my strength; He became my strength. He reminded me that the thorn doesn’t defeat us; it becomes the doorway through which His glory steps in. My husband, family, friends, and the countless prayers lifted on my behalf became vessels of God’s love, reminding me that what looks like an ending is often where He does His best work.
… the thorn doesn’t defeat us; it becomes the doorway through which His glory steps in.
Through lingering numbness and nerve pain in my face (Trigeminal neuralgia), vision issues in my left eye, and the exhaustion of hospital stays and oncology appointments, God has been teaching me to release my grip on self-sufficiency. Every test, every scan, every unknown has been a lesson in dependence, a sacred invitation to rest fully in Him. He meets us in both the dramatic and the mundane.
As we face uncertainty and continue to navigate treatments, recoveries, and the unknown, the same promise remains: His grace is sufficient. His power is made perfect in weakness. My valleys have become fertile soil, and in surrendering, I’ve discovered strength I never possessed alone.
To anyone reading this, let this be a challenge and an encouragement: don’t wait for the mountains to feel secure. Step into your valley. Admit your insufficiency. Rest in grace. Let God’s power carry you through the moments you cannot handle on your own. Because in the valleys, in the weakness, God is not just present – He is gloriously, powerfully enough.
About the Author
Sarah Holsapple serves on staff at her church in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, as the Creative & Spiritual Development Director. She serves alongside her husband of almost twenty years, Harris, who is the lead pastor at First Open Bible. Sarah has been teaching and preaching for several years. She’s passionate about discipleship and women’s ministry and served as the Regional Women’s Director for Open Bible Central Region. One of her favorite things in life is being a mom to her two incredible children, Hudson and Lynnley Jo.
The last several years for Sarah have been the hardest of her life. She truly knows the depths of heartbreak and what it feels like to wrestle through healing. She has seen God move in miraculous ways and has experienced great comfort in knowing that we serve a faithful God. Sarah feels great joy in sharing encouragement from the word of God, seeing lives changed and people set free!
My wife, Leona, was at an eye exam, and I was waiting in the lobby when a good-looking couple walked in. Thinking they were Hispanic, I greeted them in Spanish. With a look of surprise, they responded that they didn’t understand. Noticing their accent, I asked what language they spoke. “Arabic,” they replied. They were from Cairo, Egypt.
“I was just there!” I exclaimed. We introduced ourselves, and when they asked about my trip, I explained that I had gone to teach at INSTE Global Bible College. As we talked, we discovered common ground—Youssef and Fatima are both college professors, and Leona and I also work in higher education.
When the conversation turned to food, my Italian roots—revealed by my surname—caught their interest. I asked them what their favorite Italian dish was. “We love eggplant parmesan,” they answered.
“Would you come to our house for dinner if I made that?” I asked. They gladly accepted. When Leona’s appointment ended, we compared calendars and set a date to host Youssef, Fatima, and their four sons.
At home we talked about what to do with our dog Barney. Living in a townhome, we couldn’t put him outside. Knowing that Muslims traditionally view dogs as unclean, we decided to banish Barney to our finished basement during the visit.
Before dinner, we explained our custom of thanking God for our food. They understood, appreciating that we blessed them also in our prayer. Conversation flowed easily as we shared the meal. Afterward, the younger boys, full of energy, spotted the basement stairs. Leona explained about Barney, assuring Fatima that he was friendly. With her permission, the boys bounded downstairs to play with one very happy dog. The older boys preferred the TV room to watch football, while we lingered at the table with Youssef and Fatima, enjoying the chance to connect as fellow educators. Our first dinner together was a success.
As Fatima and Leona washed the dishes, the conversation was salted with quotes from the Koran and the Bible…
That Thanksgiving, we invited the family back to share in a traditional holiday meal. Barney had a sleepover at Leona’s sister’s house this time. We set the table for a 1:00 p.m. feast, but our guests were delayed returning from Wisconsin and arrived closer to 5:00. Once gathered, we enjoyed another rich time together.
Leona and Fatima washed dishes side by side, as Youssef and I chatted in the living room. All four boys bundled into the TV room to watch sports. Later, gathered by the fireplace, Youssef asked, “Does the Bible talk about the end of the world?” He was genuinely interested in comparing Christian and Muslim viewpoints on the end times. We had a very interesting conversation that evening! It was 11:00 p.m. when six-year-old Ahmed sleepily stumbled from the TV room, asking, “Can we go home now?” Shortly thereafter, we said good night to our guests with gratitude for another memorable evening.
Months later, Youssef and Fatima invited us to their home for the Muslim celebration of Eid, marking the close of Ramadan. Fatima had prepared the traditional feast of Egyptian dishes. We arrived in time to count down to sunset, and then the banquet began. As Fatima and Leona washed the dishes, the conversation was salted with quotes from the Koran and the Bible as Fatima explained Eid. The rest of the evening was filled with relaxing conversation, along with plans to get together for the Fourth of July.
Friendship and food opened doors for evangelism.
Our last gathering was at Christmas. Once again, we shared a meal, meaningful conversation, and plenty of laughter. Wanting to give them New Testaments in a respectful way, we sought guidance from friends experienced in ministry to Muslims. Following their advice, we wrapped the books beautifully, adding a heartfelt note expressing our joy in their friendship. We presented the gifts as they left that evening. Though we haven’t heard from them since, we often remember Youssef, Fatima, and their boys in prayer. Friendship and food opened doors for evangelism. We learned that sensitivity to cultural and religious differences keeps those doors open, and above all, we were reminded to live out 1 Peter 3:15: “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect…” (NIV).
About the Authors
Leona K. Venditti, EdD, and Nicholas A Venditti, PhD, met in Madrid, Spain. In 1982, Leona was sent by Open Bible’s Department of Global Missions to start a training program which has since grown into INSTE Global Bible College. It has expanded to more than forty countries and eighteen languages. Together, the Vendittis continue to “make disciples and develop leaders” both nationally and globally as they mentor many cross-cultural followers of Jesus.
Spiritual direction…hmmm, sounds like what I get from the Holy Spirit when I pray, so why would I need to meet with a spiritual director when I can do this on my own? Seems unnecessary, right? Not to mention, I’m a guy; we never ask for directions.
That was my thinking a few years ago, until the day I got a call from another minister who was training to be a spiritual director. She needed to log a certain number of practice hours to finish her training, and she asked if I would be her “guinea pig.”
The call had “coincidentally” come in the middle of a challenging season; my pastoral duties felt relentless, and I was going through a profound life change. I felt empty inside as I wrestled with a nagging question: “Am I really hearing God clearly?” Unable to talk through my struggle with very many people, I had been feeling spiritually stuck. The person calling was someone I trusted, so I agreed to be a part of her training process. I thought I was helping her out, but little did I know this decision would stand as a cornerstone of my spiritual and mental health moving forward.
Spiritual direction is like having a wonderful (dare I say, sacred) friend who walks alongside you and gently guides you to notice and respond to the presence of God in your life.
Spiritual direction is like having a wonderful (dare I say, sacred) friend who walks alongside you and gently guides you to notice and respond to the presence of God in your life. Believe it or not, even the best of us can miss Him in the middle of our emotional and mental upheavals. Unlike traditional counseling or mentorship, spiritual direction focuses on deepening our relationship with God, helping us become more aware of His presence in our everyday experiences.
A Transformative Encounter: Experiencing the Father Three Ways
There’s one spiritual direction session that particularly stands out in my mind. My mom had just passed away, and my dad was in the final stages of his life. It had been a tough year of loss, and I was doing my best to keep it together. As I shared with my spiritual director, she made a suggestion. She said, “Gary, take the next ten minutes to sit before the Father and ask Him what He wants to say to you in this season.”
I muted the microphone, sat in silence, and stared out the window of my office into my backyard. It was a beautiful day, and the wind was rustling through the trees. Things moving by some unseen force. As I sat there, God reminded me of three snapshots (memories) with my dad. The first was a memory of being at the beach with him when I was four and his taking me into the deep water. I remember protesting that I didn’t want to go out there but also feeling safe because I was held tightly in my father’s arms. The second was a memory of when I was twenty and we took a trip together. It was on that trip that I felt my father, through his actions, take his mantle of authority and leadership and place it on my shoulders. The third snapshot wasn’t a true memory but a glimpse into the future. I was about to visit my dad in a month – it was to say goodbye as he was in the final stages of life on earth. My agenda was simple: I was just going to spend time with Dad.
In those pictures, with the wind blowing through the trees, the Father used my father to help me encounter Him. I’ll never forget the three things God whispered to me as I pondered those three snapshots:
Gary, I’m with you; you’re safe.
Gary, I’ve given you everything you need to fulfill what I’ve called you to do; I trust you.
Gary, all I desire is for you to spend time with me and enjoy my presence.
Those past and future joys were a reminder from my heavenly Father that I could take the path ahead because He was with me. I’m not sure I would have had such a profound experience had it not been for the preceding conversation with my spiritual director and our subsequent debrief.
Integrating Spiritual Direction into Pastoral Ministry
Moments in this and following sessions have been a game changer for me, helping me become a better leader and follower. I now approach decisions with a greater sense of grounding, choosing to rely on prayerful discernment and feedback from someone who’s spiritually mature and not emotionally tied to the situations. I’ve also learned to listen better, not just to God but also to people.
Spiritual direction has been a transformative experience for me, helping me grow both personally and professionally.
Spiritual direction has also been a huge help with my mental health. Regular sessions provide a sanctuary from the incessant demands of ministry and allow me to process those stressors in a safe context. I’ve learned to be more resilient, thanks to the reflective exploration of my spiritual journey, and I feel more balanced and purposeful.
If you’re a minister who hasn’t tried spiritual direction yet, I highly recommend it. Here are a few things to keep in mind:
- Find a spiritual director who’s trained to help others on their spiritual journey.
- Make sure you prioritize regular meetings. Consistent engagement allows for a deeper unfolding of your spiritual narrative and allows for sustained growth.
- Be open and vulnerable. Don’t be afraid to talk about the good and bad parts of your spiritual life.
Spiritual direction has been a transformative experience for me, helping me grow both personally and professionally. Remember, we all need help sometimes.
About the Author
Gary Kahn
Gary Khan was born on the island of Trinidad in the Caribbean. He moved to America when he was twenty to pursue his education and calling to be a pastor. He met his wife DeLaine at Eugene Bible College (now New Hope Christian College) and upon their graduation, they were married and began working at Desert Streams Church in Santa Clarita, CA. After thirty-two years as a pastor, Gary became an Executive Director of Operations for Marketplace Chaplains. He is the author of devotionals including Reset and Greater and his most recent book, That Didn’t Turn Out the Way I Thought.
