When You Don’t Know What to Pray: The Lost Art of Lament
Reading 1 Corinthians 13 this past week, I came to a dead stop at “it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs” (5b, NIV). Paul wrote this definition of love inspired by the Holy Spirit of God. It’s beautiful, poetic language. And it caused me to grieve over the bitterness in my heart.
I don’t know about you, but there are words that have been spoken to me, about me, and over me that are so painful, I have tried to just erase them from my memory. Yet, they resurface in moments of doubt and insecurity. And like a root lying unseen beneath the ground, the bitterness pops above the surface every now and then, ugly and tripping me up.
The problem is that in my effort to be righteous as I know God wants me to be, I have tried to just forgive as a matter of principle, to overlook an offense as Proverbs teaches, without ever really giving it to God.
I’ve thought about it, journaled the words, processed it on my own. Chosen to just love and let it go. But this self-directed effort only covered the root with loose dirt; it could never remove it.
So, every time I was reminded of those words, I would exhaust myself seeking human ways to comfort my flesh and soothe my heart. I tried to hide the pain instead of giving it to God.
Why is it that we can acknowledge our pain but fail to let God bring the healing?
Why “Processing” Isn’t the Same as Healing
While acknowledging the pain, processing and journaling through it, and even understanding the current patterns that trigger those hurtful thoughts are all helpful strategies, God wants us to bring our wounds to Him so He can heal us.
My pastor loves to share the story of the demon-possessed man in Luke 8:26-39. The man had been that way a long time, not wearing clothes or living in a home, but living among the tombs. He had at times been chained and kept under guard, but the demonic powers would break the chains and drive him into solitary places.
Can you imagine what that was like? Do you wonder what happened in his life, what pain or trauma led to his current condition?
Yet, when he saw Jesus, he cried out and fell at His feet, right where he needed to be. After Jesus healed him by driving out the demons, the townspeople came and found the man “sitting at Jesus’ feet, dressed and in his right mind” (Luke 8:35).
This story tells us something important about the things that break us: They can only truly be healed at His feet.
We don’t have to be demon-possessed to be broken; life has a way of chipping away at our identity and security. But we do need the Healer to put us back together.
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3). Healing is something He does, not something we accomplish through insight.
I want to pause here and say this clearly: Lament is not a substitute for medical or professional care. If you’re walking through depression, anxiety, trauma, or grief that feels unrelenting, heavier than a season, or is affecting your ability to function, please don’t just pray about it and stop there. God works through counselors, doctors, and medicine too. Bringing your pain to Him in prayer and getting the professional help you need aren’t in competition with each other. They can, and often should, happen together.
Introducing Lament as a Forgotten Discipline
Nearly a third of the Psalms are laments, which are prayers of honest sorrow brought directly to God. A lament names pain, loss, or confusion without pretending it isn’t there, while still addressing God as the one who can be trusted with it.
In Scripture, it typically follows a pattern: crying out to God, honestly describing the trouble, asking boldly for help, and choosing to trust Him even before the circumstances or feelings change.
Oftentimes, I think I’m supposed to just forgive and let go of offenses or not let them get to me in the first place. And there may be times I am overly sensitive or easily offended (which 1 Corinthians 13 reminds me is unloving). But ignoring legitimate pain caused by someone else is not the answer. Bringing it to God is.
Other times, I may be tempted to get angry and vent my feelings to a family member or friend, but this response leaves God out of the pain and will lead me to sin.
Lament holds both truth and trust together. It doesn’t pretend the wound isn’t real, and it doesn’t stay stuck there either. And the cool thing about the Psalms is that God gave us these words before we needed them. The prayer book was written in advance.
For over a thousand years, these psalms of lament sat at the heart of the church’s worship. The early church prayed through the entire Psalter on a regular rotation, and believers from Augustine onward turned to psalms like these in their own seasons of grief and confession. This wasn’t a fringe practice. It was how Christians for centuries brought their pain to God.
Walking the Pattern — Psalm 13
We can use these biblical templates as our own prayers to God, allowing biblical truth to guide how we process our emotions and trust God with the pain. Psalm 13 is a perfect example of a lament that can guide us through this process. In this psalm, David takes his pain to God and asks for help, then confesses his trust in God, based on God’s character and not his circumstances.
To use this as your own prayer of lament, first address God directly (vv. 1-2). Lament starts by turning toward God, not away from Him. Even the question “How long, Lord?” is still spoken to Him.
Next, name the wound honestly (v.1-2). David doesn’t soften what he says. He is struggling to understand his pain and asks God how long he must suffer.
Then, ask boldly (v.3-4). He asks God to look, to answer, to act. He’s not demanding from God but boldly asking for answers and for God’s help.
Last, choose to trust (v.5-6). The shift here isn’t because circumstances changed. It’s a decision made in the middle of unresolved pain. This is the hinge of the whole psalm and worth slowing down on.
This process of using the lament to prayerfully give our brokenness to God is a powerful way to honestly confess our hurt, give it to God, and trust Him to heal us so we can truly forgive and let go.
An Invitation, Not a Checklist
Lament is simply an old, God-given way of bringing your real self, wounds and all, to a God who has never once been afraid of your honesty.
That root I mentioned at the start, the one I kept covering with loose dirt instead of pulling up, is finally starting to loosen. Not because I found the right technique, but because I finally brought it to the only One who could actually reach it.
Some wounds take longer than a season to heal, and that doesn’t mean you’re doing this wrong. The same is true if what you’re carrying needs more than a prayer pattern. Reaching for that kind of help isn’t a failure of faith either.
This week’s email is where we start putting this into practice, walking through what it actually looks like to bring your own wound to God using this pattern. I’d love for you to join me there.