Permission to Lament

In a culture that rushes us to move on, find silver linings, and “stay positive,” sadness has little room in our lives. It’s become the uncomfortable pause or detour in our story—something to be avoided or quickly overcome. But sorrow is not a side story; it’s necessary to the main plot. To live fully, we need to give ourselves space for it to be seen—what we’re calling today “permission to lament.”

But what is lament? Lament is not the same as complaint. It’s not simply venting frustration or stewing in sorrow. It is an act of honesty, a willingness to acknowledge loss, disappointment, or injustice. It’s the refusal to look away from pain or to pretend that everything is fine when it isn’t.

The Strength of Lament

The strength of lament lies in its honesty. To be human is to feel lament, sorrow, and sadness—and there’s a reason lament has been part of human experience for centuries. Poetry, scripture, and music are filled with expressions of sorrow that don’t rush to resolution. These voices teach us that there is strength in learning to hold sorrow, rather than trying to outrun it. In fact, joy can only exist because we care deeply enough to feel sorrow in the first place. Lament also makes room for hope—not a shallow hope that denies suffering, but a hope that grows because we have faced pain and walked through it.

Lament

• Reminds us that love is costly. To love deeply is to risk loss. Lament is not something we experience because we did something wrong; it’s the natural response to caring about people, dreams, and places that matter to us. When we grieve well, we reaffirm that these things were worth loving in the first place.

• Teaches us to tell the truth. Love cannot thrive where there is pretense. When we skip over lament, we often mask our pain with busyness, forced optimism, or even resentment. But naming what is broken, lost, or beyond repair creates space for genuine connection. It allows us to be known as we truly are, and to offer the same gift to others.

• Deepens our compassion. When we allow ourselves to grieve, we begin to recognize grief in others. The world is full of people carrying unseen burdens, and lament makes us more tender toward them. Rather than being afraid of sorrow, we learn to sit with it, both in ourselves and in others.

Learning to Be Okay with Lament

Learning to be okay with lament isn’t easy. Hard emotions are easier to ignore. But remember, lament doesn’t mean letting grief take over our story—it means being honest about what matters to you and making space for a more honest kind of hope.

Give yourself permission to name what is hard. Write it down, say it aloud to yourself or someone you trust, or pray without trying to tie it up neatly. Turn to texts, music, or poetry that express sorrow honestly, and let them remind you that you are not alone. Be present with others in their lament. Instead of trying to fix or cheer them up, simply sit with what they share, listening with empathy. Our stories are more complete when we let lament have its place.