A recent conversation with a friend reminded me of the importance of lament for a person living with chronic illness. Living with chronic illness is like a coin, you experience loss of health on one side but gain a deeper peace and hope on the other side. The two go together, whether we like it or not. What I have learned in my own experience is that I can’t get to the place of having deep peace and hope in the midst of my illness (the peace/hope side of the coin) without first making space to grieve the loss of my health and the life I lived before my illness (the loss/grief side of the coin).

Three years ago this month, doctors removed part of my lungs to save my life. I am grateful to be at this Three Year Anniversary and yet, this month has been full of odd emotions.

In my initial recovery, I wanted to heal in a linear path, getting a little stronger each day. In reality, it was more two steps forward, one step back. I’d walk a little farther one day and need a longer nap the next day. The path to healing looked more like a meandering country road than a straight city street.

My emotions took a crooked path too. In my recovery, I deeply grieved the loss of what I had believed was a healthy body. I grieved what I had believed was a long and certain future. My health crisis and near-death experience brought to my awareness some expectations I had unknowingly clung to as a “right.” Things like: I can hike if I want to… I will live to see my children graduate and get married… I can plan and look forward to our retirement.

The loss of my lungs brought the loss of ignorance. We could no longer live ignorant of the mess in my chest, no longer ignore the frailty of my life.

Today, I can say with confidence, “That’s ok.” But I needed to grieve before I got to this place of surrender. I needed to make space to feel the loss and to be honest with myself and God about it. Today, my body is telling me there is still more to grieve. That’s the funny thing about loss and grief, it comes in waves. We are never all the way done lamenting. So, now is a good time to review lament and why it’s necessary in the path to healing.

Lament

In Biblical terms, making space to grieve is called “lament.”

I don’t know about you, but I don’t get warm fuzzies when I hear the word, “lament.” It sounds, in technical terms, “Yucky.”

But, lament is part of the process that brings us to hope. Like a splinter in your finger, it’s painful to begin with but it’s best to endure the “yuckiness” of tweezing it out in order to heal. Lament may not be fun, but it’s a vital part of the healing process.

Put very simply, to lament is to name your pain or suffering and give yourself permission to express all the feelings you have regarding it. It takes honesty. And it needs to be expressed it in some way outside your head.

King David is a great role model for us. We find his laments throughout the psalms. Even in very short psalms like Psalm 13, David expresses big emotions, names his pain, and finds comfort in the process, all in the space of six verses.

1 How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?

3 Look on me and answer, Lord my God.
    Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
4 and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
    and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

5 But I trust in your unfailing love;
    my heart rejoices in your salvation.
6 I will sing the Lord’s praise,
    for he has been good to me.

In verses 1-2, David names his pain: he feels forgotten by God, he’s struggling with depressive thoughts, and his enemy appears to be winning.

In verses 3-4, David shares his feelings: he feels like he may die from his loneliness and fear.

In verses 5-6, David finds comfort: his trust in God is restored and he again feels loved by God.

David’s circumstances didn’t change. Through lament, his perspective shifted. He was able to remember what he knew to be true, that God is good, express it through poetry/song, and come to a place where his feelings realigned with his thoughts.

Lament doesn’t change our situation, it helps us find peace in the midst of it.

hurdles to lament

In my experience, I found two hurdles to lament. Unable to get over these hurdles, I was stuck.

1. Difficulty naming the pain.

2. Difficulty expressing the grief.

Naming the Pain

It takes honesty to name your pain. First you have to admit that you are in pain. That can be a hard step for some people. If you are the kind of person who is perpetually happy or always looking forward to the next adventure, it can be really hard to admit that something isn’t right.

Elisabeth Elliot defines suffering as, “having what you don’t want or not having what you do want.” By that definition, everyone suffers from something at some point. If you struggle to name your pain, try asking yourself, “What is it that I have that I don’t want?” or “What do I want that I don’t have?”

Maybe you want a baby and you’ve prayed for years to get pregnant but nothing has changed. That’s your pain. Name it: I am childless and I want a baby.

Maybe you have a rare disease that keeps you in bed more days you’d like. That’s your pain. Name it: I wanted to get up today but my body needs rest.

If you still can’t name your pain, ask a close friend for help. It’s possible that they can see what you can’t because it’s too hard to open your eyes to it. Invite a trusted friend to engage in lament with you.

Express the Grief

Expressing grief can be hard if you have not experienced much pain or grief in your life. It can also be difficult if you have kept your raw, vulnerable emotions tucked deep inside you for years. It’s going to feel uncomfortable to let those emotions see the light of day.

Give yourself permission:

• to cry

• to journal

• to write it all out then burn the papers

• to sing old songs that match your emotions

• to watch a sad movie

• to paint with lots of colors

• to smash a vase

• to want to be with a friend who has lived through some pain

MaryBeth Chapman, after the accidental death of her daughter Maria, took a vase to the place where Maria died and threw it on the ground. Her plan was to glue the pieces back together as an illustration of how God would rebuild their family and their hope through the pain of their grief. But instead of breaking into pieces that could be glued together, the vase smashed into smithereens. Dust. As she swept up the dust in that place where her daughter died, she felt a different kind of healing, the first signs of a sweeping away of her grief.

God promises to make, “beauty from ashes,” (Isaiah 61:3) but in order to have ashes, something must burn. Friend, take the time to burn your expectations. To grieve the loss of your health (or your marriage or your child). Give yourself permission to admit something hurts.

It may take time to come to a place where you can express your grief. Give yourself grace to take the time you need.

make space to lament

Michele Cushatt, in her book Relentless, describes a scene in her basement where she finally came to the place where she could no longer put a smile on it. She was battling cancer for the second time and skills of a lifetime of being a “good Christian girl” were unable to get her through this dark time. She considered ending her life, even while she couldn’t believe she was considering it. (Sounds a little like David, right?)

She made it through that time by making space to lament.

“There was no pretending anymore. No muscling through the losses. Instead, I needed to honor the pain by telling the truth about it, to myself and to others.”

Friend, if you need to make space for lament, let me encourage you: It’s worth the time, energy, tears, and pain it takes to honor your pain and begin to heal.

Lament is the path to enjoying a healthy, hope-filled life.

lament in community

Do you need support in this lament thing? Think of someone you know who has been in the muck and come out with hope. Ask them if you can buy them a cup of coffee. Then share a bit of your yuck. I’m confident it will help. We are not meant to lament alone. We heal in community.

This is exactly why I created the Living Faithfully with Rare & Chronic Illness group. It’s where you can find a supportive, hope-filled space to lament. I’ll see you there, k?

Do you need encouragement to endure your suffering?

Click the button for verses that will help you endure the hard thing God is taking you through today.