Conflicted. That’s what I feel. We’re entering Lent, a season meant to focus on Christ and his sacrifice. Yet in these past weeks, I’ve felt the weight of a broken world more than the nearness of a Savior who never leaves. I know he’s here—I don’t doubt him. But what if my feelings are too loud, taking the spotlight where Jesus ought to be?
I’ve wondered if it’s selfish to feel sorrow, to focus on my response to the pain around me. Is my grief too centered on myself rather than Christ’s work on the cross? And yet, there’s something striking about the word lament—it holds both me and Lent within it.
Lament holds both me and Lent within it.
Lent invites us to acknowledge our sinfulness and reflect on how we contribute to the world's sorrow. It reminds us why Jesus had to die. In this season, we seek God’s understanding, peace, and healing—even meaning—in the messiness of life. And as we reach toward the savior, we find he is already reaching for us.
But Lent is not just about reflection; it’s also a call to action. We plead for God’s mercy and transformation—both in our lives and in the world—and we ask ourselves how willing we are to be his hands and feet.
Lament, then, is both his and ours. As we enter into the suffering of humanity, we walk the road alongside Jesus, hearing his heart, seeing his love, longing for his restoration. And he hears us too—in that sacred space where grief and hope intersect, where we identify with the sorrow of his cross.
Whether our lament is personal or global, Jesus invites us to join in his sorrow over the pain of the world. We may walk with him, but he alone carries the cross. His sweat and tears bear a weight beyond our imagining. Yet in our longing to walk with him, we find ourselves drawn into the Father’s heart—the deep love that permeates grief and compels him forward.
And as God’s comfort descends, it blankets not only us but those around us. His presence is not reserved for a select few; he is near to all who weep.
Christ’s suffering wasn’t just a historical event—it was the answer to the brokenness we still live in today. His sacrifice brought redemption not only to those who walked the earth then but to generations yet to be born. And so, we are called to carry his hope forward.
Christ’s suffering wasn’t just a historical event—it was the answer to the brokenness we still live in today.
Lamenting during Lent isn’t selfish. It’s an act of aligning ourselves with God’s sorrow and longing for redemption. It deepens our connection to the suffering of the world, and in doing so, we walk with Christ through both sorrow and hope.
We weep. We wait. We remember.
🙏thank you.