.png)
Where Do We Go From Here? Reflections on Lament (Part 1)
- Dec 21, 2025
- 3 min read
Updated: Dec 22, 2025
Sudan.
The scale of violence, particularly in the capital of North Darfur, El Fasher, has reached horrific levels.
Famine. Ethnic cleansing. Mass graves. Torture. Schools and hospitals targeted. And humanitarian aid is being denied.
These are the kind of headlines which make me sick to my stomach.
The violence committed by RSF, Sudan's paramilitary group in El Fasher, has been compared to the early days of violence during the Rwandan genocide, and human rights experts are calling for thorough investigations.
No one in Sudan has been left untouched by the violence, and it's only growing.
This is the world's largest humanitarian crisis, and children, women, and girls are paying the highest price for this violence.
So where do you go from here? Where do we go from here?
On days where the weight of the world feels heavier (which, if I'm honest, are most days recently), I have found myself in desperate and honest conversations with the Lord.
God, where are you? God, do you care? God, does the Church care?
It was in this place of honesty and frustration, where one of my mentors brought up lament during a department meeting. Our team works in human rights advocacy, dealing daily with so much heartache and pain, and he was offering lament as a resource for all of us.
(There's always a bit of skepticism I have when Scripture is being cited in the context of suffering—admittedly, I've been scarred by all-too-well-meaning friends who have thrown around Bible verses that feel blind to the context of deep suffering and darkness. Has anyone ever heard "God works all things together for the good of those who love Him,” said with good intentions but at entirely the wrong moment?)
And yet.
Taking the well-used framework for lament from the Bible, the Psalmists generally follow a pattern that begins with calling, complaining, requesting, remembering, and praising.
When I sat there and unpacked this idea of lament from the Psalms, the first thing that struck me was this:
Lament takes you on a journey that involves calling on God and complaining.
Lord, "pay attention to my groaning," (Psalm 5:1); "I am poured out like water" (Psalm 22:14); "My God, why have you forsaken me?" (Psalm 22:1).
It's in this honesty that we acknowledge our disappointments, suffering, and deep pain—bringing it all to the feet of our Savior who truly does know what it's like as the "Man of Suffering" (Isaiah 53:3).
This journey of lament has changed how I engage with suffering as I learn that God can handle my honest questions. In fact, I'm learning how he actually invites me into a conversation with Him about my disappointments.
God, where are you? God, do you care? Why does it seem like you are silent sometimes in the face of so much suffering?
Maybe you've felt it too. The ache in your own heart, the disappointments you have towards God, the anger or the frustration and confusion about why God seems to show up sometimes but not other times.
But perhaps this can be an invitation to you as well. To allow yourself to adopt the Psalmists' cries and to bring them in an honest conversation with God.
There's more to this journey, and it's something I'm still unpacking, but in the next post, I'll share more about lament that I believe matters deeply for how we respond to Sudan and to the suffering around us.
I want to share those with you, but I also want to pause here to first breathe and bring our grief to the Lord.
Because sometimes, we just need permission to be honest first.
Articles referred to in this post:
Comments