The Lament in the Psalms: A Believer’s Prayer in Tears Before God
When faced with suffering, people either fall silent or cry out. And the person of faith turns their cries toward God. The Book of Psalms is a collection of such prayers. Though known for its songs of praise, more than half of the Psalms are laments—cries of anguish directed at God, questions demanding the reason for suffering, anger and frustration toward enemies, and deep distress at God’s silence. These laments are not signs of weak faith, but expressions of honesty within a real relationship.
The psalmists do not romanticize suffering. They often ask, “Why have You forsaken me?” or “How long will You hide Your face from me?” These are not mere complaints, but questions only those who still place their hope in God can ask. Atheists do not cry out to God. Those who do not trust God simply despair in silence or attempt their own solutions. But the psalmists, even in the moment they feel abandoned, continue to speak to God. That is faith.
Psalm 13 is one of the representative laments, beginning with the cry, “How long, Lord? Will You forget me forever?” This is a question that erupts from deep within the heart of a believer. Because the psalmist trusts God, the silence becomes even more painful. Even while feeling God’s absence, he continues to address Him. This tension, this contradiction, this unresolved gap is true prayer—it is a soul’s cry that no matter how painful, refuses to give up on the relationship with God.
To many believers today, such prayer may seem unfamiliar. Modern churches often treat prayer as a tool for success or a formula for solving problems. But the prayers in the Psalms are nothing like that. These prayers reveal the raw self before God—without concealing shame, anger, or sorrow. They do not smooth out emotions or cover up circumstances. The prayers of the Psalms are fierce struggles of those clinging to God even in suffering.
The lament in the Psalms is also the beginning of healing. The complaints, tears, confusion, and despair poured out before God lead to a confession: “But I trust in Your unfailing love.” Almost every lament ends in a declaration of trust. Not because the suffering has ended, or because God has answered, but because something within the praying heart has shifted. This is the power of faith—to hold on to God even when the pain persists.
Lament deepens the relationship with God. True relationships are not built on avoiding conflict or hiding emotions but on expressing the heart honestly. The same is true with God. Lament is not betrayal, but a sign of intimacy. The ability to cry before God is proof that one still believes in Him. Lament is not a crack in faith, but a path toward maturity.
Even Jesus lamented. On the cross, He quoted Psalm 22, crying, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” This was more than a citation; it was the deepest confession of faith amid His suffering. Jesus passed through God’s silence, and even then, still called Him “My God.” The lament in the Psalms reached its climax in the prayer of Jesus, and the dark night of the cross gave way to the morning of resurrection.
Today’s believers often lose words in the face of suffering. Pain can be too heavy to explain rationally or to be soothed by simple comfort. But the Psalms tell us it’s okay to cry before God. When words fail, we can still come as we are. The psalmists cried on our behalf. Their prayers become ours; their laments give language to our groans.
Faith does not eliminate suffering. But the Psalms show us that even in pain, we can cry with God. This is a great comfort. God hears our silence and remembers our tears. Even when we cannot pray, the Psalms cry out for us. They are songs for the suffering and a prayer book for the broken.
These are not mere literary expressions, but living language forged in real anguish. The Psalms teach us: it’s okay to cry before God. There is nothing to hide, nothing to fake. And in those tears, we begin to see God’s face more clearly. Suffering may remain, but it no longer drives us away from God. Instead, it becomes a path through which we seek Him more earnestly.
There are moments in a believer’s life that defy explanation. When prayer brings no answer, when the situation worsens, when deeper faith only seems to bring heavier burdens. In these moments, we fall silent, give up, or resign ourselves. But the Psalms offer another way—not silence but lament, not resignation but honest questioning. The Psalms cry, question, even protest on behalf of the broken soul.
Psalm 42 says, “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God.” The psalmist speaks to his own soul. In the midst of despair and anxiety, he urges himself to hope. But this is not self-talk. He also cries, “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for You, my God.” This longing is not poetic metaphor—it is the desperation of someone struggling to survive.
We sometimes think believers should remain composed during suffering. But the Psalms show otherwise. The writers break down, collapse, and express their raw emotions. They become angry with God, protest their injustice, and argue against divine silence. But they never walk away. Crying out to God in the midst of suffering is what the Psalms reveal as true faith.
Lament is not the opposite of faith. Rather, real faith sees reality clearly and still turns to God to ask, “Why?”, “How long?”, “Where are You?” The Psalms permit and even encourage such questions. This is not distrust—it is trust deep enough to demand answers. Just as a child complains only to a trusted parent, or one reveals emotions only to someone they love, so the Psalms’ laments are proof of living relationship.
Many Psalms are not just personal but communal—prayers from Israel’s collective suffering: exile, destruction, war, oppression. Psalm 74 cries, “Why have You rejected us forever, O God?” amid the ruins of the temple. These prayers mirror the cries of modern victims of war, disaster, and injustice. The Psalms are the prayer book of a suffering people.
What makes the Psalms unique is how laments often end with renewed trust. In Psalm 73, the psalmist despairs at the prosperity of the wicked. But after entering God’s sanctuary, he confesses, “Whom have I in heaven but You? And earth has nothing I desire besides You.” The reality hasn’t changed, but his perspective has. Honest lament leads to deeper assurance.
That is the power of prayer. The Psalms seek answers, but when answers don’t come, the prayers continue. Often the process of praying itself becomes the answer. God may not resolve the situation, but He reshapes the heart of the one who prays. The psalmists know this. That’s why they keep praying. Psalm 62 says, “Trust in Him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to Him, for God is our refuge.”
Today’s church speaks much of healing and blessing, but often avoids the language of faith in suffering. Yet Scripture never shied away from lament. God receives not only praise, but also cries of pain. In fact, lament may reflect a deeper relationship than praise does. Anyone can praise when things go well, but only those who truly believe cry out in pain. To cry before God is to know God deeply.
The Psalms of lament prevent us from giving up on God amid suffering. Even when tears flow, hearts break, and lives collapse, we can still speak to Him. And these words always lead to confession: “It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in humans.” The conclusion of the Psalms is always God. Suffering is simply a long tunnel leading to that conclusion.
The prayers of the Psalms remain relevant today. When we fall silent before suffering, the Psalms pray for us. That is their comfort and power. We can cry to God, and in those tears, find healing. Suffering is not the end. Lament is the doorway to hope. God does not forget our tears. And so, like the Psalms, we can pray—crying, even collapsing, but always toward God.
Maeil Scripture Journal | Special Series
