The Transformative Power of Lament

Blog by Gem Fadling

I am in the stage of life when many of my friends are in the “sandwich generation.” These are people who give care to their children and to their aging parents at the same time. While it can be a time of great joy, it can also carry with it an exhaustion from the number of relational dynamics at play on any given day.

Alan and I are not sharing in this season with our peers for two reasons: (1) Alan’s parents are thriving and actually are more physically fit than us, and (2) my parents both passed when I was quite young. So I’ve already been through the traumatic deaths of both my dad and my mom.

I was only 26 when my dad was diagnosed with cancer of the spine. From the time of his diagnosis to his passing was only six months. My dad and I had a special bond. He was an older dad and was 52 when I was born, but I never felt that. He was the one who taught me how to do cartwheels, crafted at least three tree swings in our yard, and built multiple house additions while holding down a full-time job.

My dad singlehandedly cared for our small, six-acre homestead in rural Washington. Yes, I helped him garden, but only the kind of help an elementary-aged child can offer. I would accompany him on his fishing adventures in the local river and rode along to the dump in an old jalopy truck he purchased, much to my mom’s chagrin. I have more memories than I can share here.

So when Dad passed, it was a great loss to my heart and soul. For almost a year, I had nightmares about how frail he looked during his end days. It was in my nighttime dream life that I would process his death. One time, in the middle of the night, I awoke screaming from a frightening dream. Alan leapt up and turned on the lights. I was crying and trying to describe the terrifying imagery.

As he comforted me, in typical Alan form, he turned to the scriptures, found Psalm 116, and began to read it aloud over me:

³ The cords of death entangled me,
    the anguish of the grave came over me;
    I was overcome by distress and sorrow.
⁴ Then I called on the name of the Lord:
    “Lord, save me!”

⁵ The Lord is gracious and righteous;
    our God is full of compassion.
⁶ The Lord protects the unwary;
    when I was brought low, he saved me.

⁷ Return to your rest, my soul,
    for the Lord has been good to you.

At age 27, this was my first real encounter with lament.

Have you ever found yourself in a place so deep and dark that you wondered if God could hear you? Maybe it was a season of loss, an unexpected failure, or a quiet despair that only grew as time passed. Psalm 116 begins with words like cords of death, anguish, overcome, distress, and sorrow. The situation is dire.

It’s easy to think that we need to hold everything together, but when we open to the practice of lament, we might find ourselves opening more fully to God’s love and care.

Psalm 116 gave voice to what I was feeling at the time but didn’t know how to express. I could only groan in sadness. I just kept saying, “I don’t want to see my dad like this anymore!”

In times of lament, we often feel like we’re sitting in the dark, waiting for some hint of light to break through. But in this waiting, we open to God’s presence in new ways. I have to admit, my memory of that night is patchy. I don’t remember how long I was awake or how long I cried. I’m not sure how many times Alan read the psalm, but gradually it began to soothe my soul. At some point, Alan’s prayers and my crying had the desired effect so that I was able to return to sleep and carry on the next day.

My dreams began to morph over time, and within about a year, my dad was showing up in my dreams just like he was in his prime. He was wearing his 1970s green plaid suit with his fedora hat cocked to the side just so. My heart, soul, and body had spent a year processing his death, and I was now able to remember him as he was.

I’m sure many of you have endured or are enduring great loss. I offer a few ideas as you move through your grieving process.

Allow Space for Honest Lament

 Grief needs room to breathe. It has its own timetable. Don’t try to rush it or push through it. Allow grief to move with you at its own pace. The Psalms show that raw honesty with God and yourself can be profoundly healing.

You might begin by setting aside intentional time to name your loss. Write or speak aloud any feelings that arise, even if they’re painful, confusing, or angry. This kind of honesty can help you feel more connected to what you’re experiencing without needing to rush through it or deny it.

Seek Out Comforting Presence

 Grief is often best processed in the company of others. Just as Alan accompanied me, it’s important to reach out to people who can listen without judgment—whether friends, family, or a spiritual director, pastor, or therapist. Another person’s presence can provide a sense of grounding and comfort. Support groups can also offer a community of understanding, reminding you that you’re not alone in what you feel.

Embrace Simple, Restorative Practices

 In grief, taking care of your physical and emotional needs is a form of self-compassion. Engage in gentle practices that allow you to express and hold your grief in a manageable way. This could be as simple as journaling, engaging in creative expressions like drawing or music, or spending time in nature. Embodied practices like taking short walks, deep breathing, or even lighting a candle can serve as small yet meaningful ways to honor your grief and remind yourself of life’s ongoing rhythms.

I do pray that you will sense God’s presence with you in your time of grief. And if you aren’t currently processing a time like this, I hope you will share this post with a friend or loved one who might find it helpful. You can be a light who stands with them in the darkness.

For Reflection:

 As you think about this practice of lament, consider these questions as a way to deepen your own reflection:

• How do I typically handle grief or disappointment? Do I allow myself to be honest with God and others, or do I tend to hold back?

• How is God inviting me to express myself in his presence? Take a few moments to be still and notice any areas in your life where God might want to meet with you in grief.

• How might lament open new pathways for connection and compassion in your life and leadership? Consider how embracing lament in your own life could make you a more compassionate and understanding leader for those around you.

Remember this from Psalm 116:

⁵ The Lord is gracious and righteous;
    our God is full of compassion.
⁶ The Lord protects the unwary;
    when I was brought low, he saved me.

⁷ Return to your rest, my soul,
    for the Lord has been good to you.

May you find rest for your soul…in God.