Days of Lamenting

We lament the brokenness of the world.

We grieve the tearing apart of our communities.

We carry sorrow in our hearts when we see images we cannot unsee.

We mourn the violence that sweeps across our land like a storm that will not lift.

The book of Lamentations whispers that sin always bears weight.

It is a song of sorrow sung over a city reduced to ashes.

“The Lord has brought her grief because of her many sins.” — Lamentations 1:5

And I wonder—

how much of the ache we face today is the fruit of our nation’s sin?

What if lament is not only for what has been done to us—

but also for what has been done by us?

What if, the moment we began to dehumanize—

when we enslaved,

when we silenced the unborn,

when we treated the stranger as less than, we tore at the very image of God in us?

What if, hiding behind our glowing screens, we found false courage,

flinging words like stones—

and with each word, our hearts grew a little harder, our souls a little more numb?

What if this brokenness isn’t just “out there”— but here, in us all?

Then maybe healing begins with repentance. Not with a pointed finger, but with a bent knee.

Not with blame, but with a mirror held up to our own hearts.

God spoke this to Solomon long ago, yet His words echo still:

“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, I will forgive their sin, and I will heal their land.” — 2 Chronicles 7:14

What if a repentant heart—yours, mine, ours—could be the seed of healing for a nation?