My friends,

These days only seem to get heavier and scarier. Many of us wake with a knot in our stomachs, scroll headlines with a sense of dread, and carry the weight of our country and the world that seems more and more untethered from love, peace, and justice.

In recent days, national leaders have threatened to invoke the Insurrection Act, a 1807 law that allows the president to deploy military forces against uprisings. This was in response to peaceful protests in Minneapolis after the killing of Renee Good, a 37-year-old mother of three who was shot by a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent. Thousands have protested in Minneapolis and in cities across the country in response to this violence and federal immigration enforcement tactics, and the specter of military involvement in domestic protest has stirred fear and confusion among many. Add to this the continued erosion of our democracy, the growing international instability caused by both actions and rhetoric from our country’s leaders, as well as the ecological crisis, and the state of the world seems insurmountable.

If we are honest, these events can feel like unending existential storms, undermining our sense of stability, safety, and freedom. The injustices we see, against immigrants, communities of color, peaceful protestors, and people simply yearning for dignity, are neither distant nor abstract. They are unfolding in real time, in real human lives. As a parent of three children, three years old and under, I find myself fearing for other people’s safety and fearing the world my children are going to grow up in all at the same time. It is so easy to become frozen in fear at any moment.

For many of us who enjoy relative comfort and security, it can be tempting to look away, to assume it won’t touch us. But history and Scripture remind us that injustice never stays confined to one place or one people. What we allow or ignore today often finds its way to our own doorstep tomorrow.

So how are we to live in a moment like this? Well, I want to invite us to begin with lament. Not as the answer, but a step towards clarity and hope.

Why Lament Matters

In my experience of church, lament didn't get a lot of focus, especially in communal worship. The majority of worship song lyrics and sermons I experienced helped me to understand the importance of joy and optimism, but left me unprepared on how to approach God with my grief, sorrow, and pain. I often felt like joy and happiness were the only acceptable postures to have before God and grief was something to work out on my own.

It was only by studying the scriptures and church history more deeply that I discovered how important lament is in our lives and our relationship with God.

Lament is a passionate expression of grief and sorrow.

It is not a sign of weakness;
it is a form of spiritual honesty.
It names what is wrong,
it does not look away,
it calls out to God in the midst of suffering,
and it insists on hope even when a way forward is not yet clear.

Lament In The Bible

There are powerful examples of lament in Scripture that help us understand why it is needed. Here are a few clear, tangible examples of lament in Scripture, offered not as abstractions, but as living prayers spoken in moments of fear, injustice, grief, and exhaustion. Lament is woven deeply into the biblical story. It is one of the primary ways God’s people tell the truth and keep faith alive when circumstances feel unbearable.

Psalms: The Language of Holy Protest

The Psalms are one of the clearest homes of lament in Scripture. Nearly one-third of them are laments.

Psalm 13:

“How long, LORD? Will you forget me forever?”

This psalm begins with accusation and anguish and ends with trust. Nothing changes externally, but something shifts internally. Lament is not resolution; it is a relationship.

Psalm 22:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

This cry gives voice to abandonment and despair. Jesus himself prays these words from the cross, showing that lament is not a failure of faith, but an act of deep trust.

Psalm 44:

“You have rejected us and humbled us… Wake up, Lord! Why do you sleep?”

Here the community laments injustice they did not cause. This matters deeply. Scripture makes room for grief that is not the result of personal sin, but of systems, violence, and betrayal.

Lamentations: Grief After Catastrophe

Written after the destruction of Jerusalem by Babylon (586 BCE), Lamentations is communal trauma set to poetry.

“Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Look and see if there is any sorrow like my sorrow.”

The book does not rush to answers. It names devastation, displacement, and despair. Only after deep lament does hope cautiously re-emerge (Lamentations 3:31–33).

This is crucial: hope in Scripture is never forced. It grows out of truthfully named pain.

Job: Refusing Easy Answers

Job’s laments are raw, confrontational, and relentless.

“Why did I not perish at birth?” (Job 3:11)

Job refuses the shallow theology of his friends, who want suffering to be neat, deserved, and solvable. God ultimately rebukes them and affirms Job’s honesty.

Lament here becomes resistance against religious gaslighting.

Habakkuk: Lament as Political Prayer

Habakkuk dares to question God about violence, corruption, and state power.

“How long, LORD, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, ‘Violence!’ but you do not save?” (Hab. 1:2)

This is a prophet naming systemic injustice. God does not silence him. Instead, God invites him into a longer, harder conversation.

Lament becomes a refusal to normalize injustice.

Jeremiah: The Cost of Speaking Truth

Often called the “weeping prophet,” Jeremiah laments both the suffering of his people and the personal cost of speaking truth.

“Why did I ever come out of the womb to see trouble and sorrow?” (Jer. 20:18)

His lament reminds us that faithfulness can be lonely, exhausting, and costly. Scripture does not romanticize this.

Exodus: Lament Sparks Liberation

Before liberation comes lament.

“The Israelites groaned in their slavery and cried out… and God heard their groaning.” (Exod. 2:23–25)

Their lament does not overthrow Pharaoh overnight, but it moves God to act. Lament here is the seed of liberation.

Gospels: Jesus as the Voice of Lament

Jesus does not avoid lament, he embodies it. He weeps at Lazarus’ tomb (John 11:35). He grieves over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41). He cries out on the cross (Matthew 27:46). God does not stand above human suffering. God enters it.

What These Texts Teach Us

Biblical lament names injustice honestly. It refuses denial or false optimism. It even holds God accountable to God’s promises. It makes space for grief without demanding quick answers. It insists on hope without pretending hope is easy.

Lament is not despair.
Lament is hope that refuses to lie.

Lament in Recent History

Lament has also been part of movements toward justice and healing in recent history. After decades of segregation, violence, and systemic racism, the Civil Rights Movement in the 1950s and ’60s was rooted in a deep lament: naming the pain of injustice, grieving the cost of racism, yet insisting on hope and calling a nation toward its better self. Through songs like “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around” and prayers offered at marches, Christian communities gave voice to sorrow and steadfast hope. That lament helped sustain movements that reshaped laws, opened doors, and nudged hearts toward justice.

Lament as the First Step Toward Action

It’s understandable to feel fear and burnout right now. We have work, family, and obligations. Life doesn’t pause for political and global anxiety. Life doesn't pause when our loved ones and our neighbors experience injustice. In fact, life gets more difficult for us all. We may feel overwhelmed and unsure that anything we do could make a difference.

But lament is not passive. It is engaged spirituality. It is a naming of the truth that leads us out of denial and into compassion. When we lament, when we honestly name harm and cry out for healing, we open our hearts to what God might do next and gain the first steps we might take towards action.

And God does call us beyond lament. From lament flows courage, clarity, and commitment to real, concrete action.

Small, Faithful Ways Forward (Right Now)

Nonviolent resistance grows through ordinary, sustained acts of courage:

• Get involved locally: mutual aid groups, faith-based justice coalitions, immigrant support networks
• Call your representatives regularly (tools like 5calls make this simple and effective)
• Donate, even modestly, to organizations doing frontline work
• Share verified information and stories that humanize those harmed
• Encourage others, especially when they are discouraged

None of these are insignificant. History turns on faithful persistence far more often than dramatic moments.

A Final Word

Lament keeps us human when systems try to harden us.

It keeps us awake, without burning us alive.

It keeps us moving, even when the road disappears.

And it reminds us again and again, that God is not finished yet.

Prayer

O God,
we come to you weary and wide-eyed,
watching the ground beneath our feet shift
while power hardens its heart.

How long, O Lord,
will lies parade as truth?
How long will violence wear a badge
and call itself order?
How long will families be torn apart
while comfort looks away?

We see the suffering, God.
We name it without flinching.
The cages, the threats, the silencing,
the fear that settles into our bones
by morning headlines and midnight dread.

We confess our exhaustion.
Some of us are afraid to speak.
Some of us are too tired to keep going.
Some of us are tempted to numb ourselves
and call it survival.

Do not despise this prayer, O God.
You have heard such cries before.
You heard them in Egypt.
You heard them in exile.
You heard them at the foot of the cross.

Meet us here,
not with easy answers
but with your faithful presence.

Teach us how to grieve without surrendering,
how to tell the truth without becoming cruel,
how to hope without denial.

Turn our lament into courage,
our grief into clarity,
our fear into fierce love.

Give rest to the burned-out,
strength to the trembling,
and stubborn hope to those who feel small.

Let justice rise, not by violence,
but by truth that cannot be buried.
Let love outlast brutality.
Let light remain.

We place our trust not in empires,
not in wealth,
not in force,
but in You,
the God who hears,
the God who sees,
the God who still acts.

Amen.

Now I'd like to hear from you! Did you find this helpful? What thoughts came to your mind as you read? Feel free to respond to this email and share your thoughts with me. I look forward to reading them. A 30 Day Devotional: I recently wrote a daily devotional in hopes to provide a companion for people seeking to follow Jesus in our world today. You can read more about it here: $20.00 Following Jesus In A World Obsessed With Empires: 30 Days of reclaiming the hope, compassion, and justice of Jesus. Today, our world can often feel overwhelmed by darkness, division, and despair. I created this 30-day devotional to... Read more Get it now! ​ Ways to support: If you'd like to support this project, you can do so through one-time-gift of any amount you feel is right. You can also subscribe through a $5/mo, $15/mo, or $25/mo. Several others have also asked for a recurring gift option that is different from the ones offered here, like this one. If you'd like me to set up a different option for you, please just send me an email with the word "support" in the subject line. As always, I really want to thank all of you for reading and for all the ways you support me and this project every single week. I'm thankful for the ways we are building this together and hope it creates a lasting, positive change in our world along the way! I sincerely appreciate you all, Ben Remember, you can now view this and all previous newsletters as well as invite friends to join through this link: https://benjamin-cremer.ck.page/profile.

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