A New Kind of Discipline, Pt. 8: Lament

“Weep with those who weep.” – Romans 12:15

The Forgotten Discipline

I was writing this post when the news broke of another shooting in my community. This was the fourth one in just a few short days. This one was targeted. Filled with rage and hate. Two  children died, many others were wounded. I stopped writing.

Later in the same day, a post from a grandmother showing her grandchild struggling in life. “Would anyone care if I died?”

The child is struggling after his father committed suicide a few months back.

And all of this rests against a political and global backdrop filled with war, violence, division and hate. When the headlines scream of another shooting, when classrooms, churches, and public places become sites of terror and loss, the temptation is to rush to debate. Guns, laws, politics, identity—our world grabs at explanations.

But before there is policy, there must be presence. Before solutions, there must be sorrow.

Lament is the discipline of slowing down long enough to grieve with God and with each other.

One-third of the Psalms are laments, teaching us that grief isn’t a sign of weak faith but a faithful cry. To lament is to stand in the ruins and say, “This is not how it should be.” It is prayer shaped by tears.

To lament is not to wallow in despair but to name grief honestly in the presence of God and with one another. It’s an act of faith that trusts God is big enough to handle our sorrow.

The Discipline of Shared Grief

Paul instructs the church: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” Notice—he doesn’t say “solve,” “explain,” or “cheer up.” The call is presence, not performance. Lament disciplines us to set aside our need for control and enter into another’s sorrow without rushing toward resolution. It trains us in empathy, patience, and solidarity.

Jesus deepens this truth in the Beatitudes: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matthew 5:4). This isn’t just personal mourning—it is mourning over the fractured state of the world, over sin, violence, and injustice. To mourn is to feel the weight of what has gone wrong in creation and to long for God’s kingdom to make it right.

Lament becomes the bridge between brokenness and hope. In lament, we name what is wrong, and in doing so, we position ourselves to receive God’s comfort.

Lament is not passive. It is the discipline of presence in the valley of shadows. It forms us into people who bear burdens instead of walking away.

Why Lament Matters Today

Our modern world does not make space for grief. We are tempted to numb it—with endless entertainment, substances that dull the ache, or busyness that buries it under productivity. Even in the Christian faith, we sometimes privatize pain, telling people to “be strong” or “move on.” But Scripture insists that grief belongs in community.

When tragedy strikes, lament is not optional, it’s essential. If we do not grieve together, we fracture further apart. If we silence sorrow, it will fester into bitterness, despair, or violence. When communities dare to lament openly, they become safer, more compassionate places. Tears, when shared, form bonds deeper than words.

Trauma research confirms what the Psalms teach. Healing accelerates when pain is shared in trusted relationships. Neuroscientists call it “co-regulation”—the human nervous system finding stability in the presence of another. The church has a deeper language for it: bearing one another’s burdens, and so fulfilling the law of Christ (Galatians 6:2).

Spiritually, lament keeps us tethered to hope. It is worship that refuses to sanitize sorrow.

We lament because we believe God listens and acts. We lament because the cross proves God Himself has entered into our suffering. And we lament because resurrection promises that comfort is not just for today’s grief, but for all eternity.

Practicing Lament in This Moment

1. Be Present – Sit with others in silence before speaking.

2. Name the Grief – Say aloud what is broken, wrong, or missed.

3. Turn Toward God – Bring grief into prayer, not away from it.

4. Hold Space for Hope – End not with answers but with trust: “Yet I will hope in You.”

Questions for Reflection & Conversation

• How do you normally respond to tragedies like today’s shooting—by avoiding, numbing, or rushing to arguments?

• What would it look like for you to stay in the sorrow with others, even when it’s uncomfortable?

• How could your faith community practice lament together instead of turning to quick fixes?

• Which Psalm of lament might give you words today?

Final Thought

Lament is love refusing to look away. Today, love looks like tears. It looks like holding the brokenness before God and saying together: “This hurts. This is not right. Lord, have mercy.”