We both walked in the room—hearts heavy with unspoken words, problems with no answers. We tried to lighten the load by revisiting past hurts and talking about solutions. The weight remained. Emotions stirred. We were fragile. Finally, she rested her forehead on the windowsill. Quiet tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked up, “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be!” In that moment, we gave lament permission. We named our grief and allowed ourselves to feel the emotion present with the loss and hurt. Our problem-solving strategies quietly left the room as lament held the weight of our heartache. Naming what was lost gave us permission to seek our hearts’ deepest desires. The longing for tenderness and understanding in a difficult relationship needed to find a voice. Lament translated this unfulfilled desire.

In recent years God has completely reshaped my understanding of lament. Bible story images of ashen faces, ripped clothes, wailing, weeping, and mourning had framed the picture in my mind. Although true representations of the practice of lament in some cultures today and throughout history, I was curious to widen my view. Could lament be an authentic expression of grief—a language often hidden inside every human heart? It wasn’t until my son was diagnosed with a life-altering disease that I discovered a deeper and more expansive meaning to Biblical lament. One that gave me language for my heartache and permission to name my raw emotions.

In his book, Sacred Sorrow, Michael Card describes Jesus as our best hope of translating this mysterious language. He spoke the “language of lament” fluently. Card suggests that within us lies a hidden “holy of holies”. In ancient Jewish traditions, only the High Priest could access this most sacred space. Jesus, a Man of Sorrows, is our High Priest. He can tenderly enter this heart space and hold our deepest cries—our laments.

A deep cry is present somewhere in the sacred space of every human heart. What is yours? Would you consider exploring the lost language of lament today? If so, find a quiet space and reflect on one or more of the questions in the "invitation to practice" section below. (Tip: Be kind to yourself and as transparent as you can.)