Lament is Like Water

Writing for you, dear community, is scary. You are precious to me – every one of you – and I am grateful for the opportunity to offer a few words that might move the needle toward wholeness in your grief story.

To be honest, I’m more nervous now than I am facing the barrel of grief itself. But what I have learned through these years of grief work is that in the face of great fear, I am invited to soften and surrender, and this is no different. The heart of Living Waters is to watch you come fully alive, and yet, it is true that so many of us drag our baggage unpacked behind us, unintentionally bringing a half-life to this community and to those we love.

The heart of this season of lament is that together, we can start the process of dismantling our false understandings of loss, life, and liminal spaces. Knowing where to start is daunting and often becomes the very reason we avoid our grief stories all together. So rather than hand you a long list of tasks, or a set of tools to serve this week, I offer a simple invitation.

Start here. Now. In this very moment. You opened this post expecting some scriptures, or maybe some resources to support you through loss. But instead, I want to invite you to meet the man Jesus, who in his time on earth embodied the fullness of joy and the lowest points of grief. He is the happiest man to walk the planet, and yet still we know him as the Man of Sorrows. His demonstration of the paradoxical life, able to navigate gracefully through all experiences, is our North Star for healthy movement toward wholeness through lament.

Because lament is like water. It will fill the space you allow it to enter. And like water, lament brings refreshment you barely noticed was lacking until you finally had a drink.

Fill a glass of water and find a comfortable place to sit. Breathe normally, and if you notice that tears are already starting to fall, then please let them fall. As you settle into the unknown season of grieving ahead and learning to hold open space for yourself and others, drink deeply. This is tread-lightly, move-slowly work. Your humble heart is all Holy Spirit needs to make the simple act of drinking water a moment of restoration.

By engaging in this simple act of drinking water, you are internalizing mercy. Why? Because crying makes you dehydrated! And as much as Jesus wants to bring us into spiritual alignment within our grief process, I promise he is just as concerned about the impact of grief on our minds and our bodies. He is never offended by our accusations, our heartaches, our failure to trust him in grief, or our fears of an unknown future. And in his mercy, he offers the thirsty a drink. So whether this simple practice of drinking water takes one minute or thirty, return to it often and in this place of refreshment, embrace the promise that you are seen and known by God. Especially if grief has left you feeling forgotten. May this opportunity to soften, surrender, and accept a drink be just the beginning of your restoration.