Clean Pain & Hopeful Lament
It’s the Christmas season and it’s supposed to be the happiest time of year, right? But what if it’s not?
What if it’s a season with deep sadness, and you’re unsure how to express it or even if it’s okay to name it? In our culture, we’ve done a great job of hiding our sadness and pain, often failing to make space for sadness and grief. We judge people’s tears. We’ve forgotten how to sit with each other in our pain.
It’s okay if you’re sad. You’re in good company. I’m sad, too. Whether we want to acknowledge it or not, “we turn to lament when life demands it,” says author Terra McDaniel, and we need “to be present to sorrow before healing can be sustainable.”
I recently purchased the book Hopeful Lament: Tending Our Grief Through Spiritual Practices and there are a couple of essential things I’m learning:
“Lament tells the truth about what is. It refuses to ignore pain and injustice. It is an expression of love. Lament allows sorrow to be expressed, both to honor beloveds we’ve lost and to honour the gap left in our communities and souls by their absence.” (ix)
“We need to know how to lament. We need to know it is possible to engage safely, that grief can be practiced in a way that does not overpower but rather frees us. If we refuse to lament, we will not be able to move on without carrying brokenness, or trauma, that will replay unprocessed pain in and around us. Lament is about giving grief—and the love hidden within it—a way to be expressed so that it doesn’t end up doing violence to us or those around us. In that way, lament is a life-affirming gift.” (XV)
God welcomes our lament.
God welcomes the full range of our experience. It’s human to celebrate. And it’s just as human to grieve when there’s suffering or injustice. Lament is more than mentally acknowledging the reality of loss or pain. It’s holding our grief and letting ourselves fully experience it instead of numbing or ignoring it, hoping it will go away. It’s about tuning into the emotional and embodied experience of heartache and bringing all of that into the loving presence of the Holy. (XVI)
“Lament isn’t a magic wand or a one-time fix. It is a practice we’re invited to: embodied rituals to return to as often as we need, layered in with other habits of grounding and prayer that help us connect with God and our own souls. Lament can address personal pain and losses. And it is something we can practice together when facing communal losses.” (XVIII)
“Lament is clean pain. It is a way of taking ourselves as whole people—with bodies, souls, and spirits—seriously.” (7
This week, I met with my spiritual director and was brutally honest, saying, “I’m sad.” I explained that I’m not sure I fully understand the depth of it, but I feel it. (I’m doing a genogram for the fourth time, and it’s bringing up some things for me. In addition, we’ve had some significant losses in our lives these last few months.)
In her wise and gentle way, she asked, "Can you name some of your sadness? I feel sad that …”
Sitting with that sentence stem and having someone listen as I named all the things I’m currently sad about was a cathartic experience. What about you? Are there things you feel sad about?
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4, NIV)
I know that God is with me on this journey; perhaps I’m feeling God’s sadness with me, and that’s why it’s so palpable. I don’t know. But I want to close this solemn blog post with a breath prayer suggested by McDaniel.
I’d invite you to get comfortable, eliminate distractions and find your breath. Ground yourself for a minute. Recognize God’s presence with you.
Breathe In: Here I am.
Breath Out: Healer, meet me here.
May you be met by the grace and love of the Healer and Prince of Peace.
Carmen
p.s. I’ll share more of my learnings as I go through this season.
