From a therapeutic perspective then, lament is emotional honesty. It’s naming the pain instead of suppressing it.

1. In Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) terms, it’s a kind of cognitive re-anchoring: which is acknowledging the thought or feeling and then bringing it back under the larger truth.
2. In Acceptance and Commitment Therapy terms, it’s acceptance in relationship: making room for the emotion, letting it exist, and still choosing to stay connected to what you value most: your faith, your relationship with God, your commitment to love and truth.

Healing Trauma Through Lament

Lament is also what allows the body to begin calming after a crisis or trauma. When we hold grief in silence, our nervous system stays in crisis and on alert. But when we give sorrow words, especially words directed toward a loving God, it tells our  body, “You are not alone in this.” That’s why lament can actually be healing; it integrates emotion and faith instead of forcing them to compete.

Healing Spirit Through Lament

Spiritually, lament is one of the holiest sounds heaven ever hears. It says, “I don’t understand You right now, but I am not walking away.” It’s the prayer that keeps our relationship alive, while we wait for His light to return.

Lament doesn’t push God away; it keeps the conversation alive long enough for hope to find its way back in.

But even when we hold on like that, the question still rises in us, “Why does God allow it? Why would a loving Father let His children walk through so much pain, loss, or silence?” Let’s talk about that.

Why Does God Allow Pain At All?

So, why does God allow bad things to happen to good people. That’s the question that always follows suffering, isn’t it? “If God is good… if He loves me… then why does He allow this?”

It’s a question as old as humanity, and one that’s echoed through Scripture and the hearts of every person who’s ever felt pain.

God’s Will

Let’s start here: God never wills evil. He never desires the suffering of His children. But in His love, He gave us something sacred and dangerous, free will. The ability to choose love also means the ability to reject it. And from the very beginning, humanity used that freedom to turn away. The result was a broken world where sin, injustice, and pain entered the story.

God in the Old Testament

When we read about judgment in the Old Testament, it’s not God delighting in pain. It’s God confronting what destroys His creation. Those moments of wrath are really the fire of love refusing to let evil have the final word. And that same fire would one day fall upon Himself at the Cross. So even when Scripture shows His justice, it’s always a justice ordered toward mercy.

So, when terrible things happen (abuse, betrayal, loss, violence) it isn’t because God wrote those things into your story. It’s because He refuses to strip us of the freedom that makes real love possible.

God’s love doesn’t cause our suffering. It actually enters it, to redeem what sin destroyed.

God and the Cross

We see this in the cross. The cross is not God’s explanation for suffering, it’s His participation in it. Think about Jesus on the Cross quoting Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?” But Psalm 22 doesn’t stop there. What begins as a cry of abandonment ends in trust; a reminder that even in our darkest moments, God remains steadfast and true.

In Jesus, God steps into the very pain we question Him about. He doesn’t stay distant; He suffers with us, and for us. That’s what makes Christianity unique. Our God is not indifferent to pain. He’s a God who bleeds. And because He entered it, He can transform it.

But let’s be honest: knowing that doesn’t always take the pain away. Even when we understand the theology, our hearts still ask, “Okay, but where is He now? Why doesn’t He stop this?”

What God Has Promised Us

That’s where we have to remember what He did promise us, and what He didn’t. He never promised a life free from suffering. He promised His presence in it.

Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

He’s not denying our pain, but reassuring that He will transform our suffering. He’s saying: I know it hurts. I’ve been there. And I’m not leaving you in it alone.

From a therapeutic perspective, this matters deeply. Because when you’ve been hurt or abandoned, your brain learns to associate pain with danger, and love with risk. So when life hurts again, it’s easy to assume that God, too, has stepped back. But that reaction comes from old wounds, not from God’s heart. In reality, He hasn’t withdrawn; our fear just makes it harder to recognize His presence.

Finding Meaning in the Midst of Pain

In Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, we talk about the tension between pain and our values; which is how meaning allows us to endure what otherwise feels unbearable.

Viktor Frankl, a Jewish psychologist who survived the Holocaust, wrote, “In some way, suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning.”

Pain’s Meaning As Christians

As Christians, the meaning in our suffering isn’t abstract. It’s redemptive. That is, it’s knowing that our suffering, united with Christ’s, can bear fruit we can’t yet see.

So when life collapses, when the cancer diagnosis comes, when the prayer to save a loved one doesn’t seem answered, when you feel completely unseen and unheard; the question isn’t, “Why did God abandon me?” The question becomes, “How might God still be present here? What good is He working to bring out of what sin has tainted?”

It’s essential to remember, God doesn’t authors our pain. Rather, He refuses to let it have the final word.

God Redeeming Our Pain

And sometimes His work is invisible, not because He’s hiding, but because He’s healing what pain distorted.

1. He’s teaching your heart to trust love again.
2. He’s softening the fear that told you to brace for rejection.
3. He’s rebuilding your ability to feel safe in His presence, even when life still hurts.

That’s restoration at work; not in the absence of suffering, but in the places where it once lived.

Allowing God into Our Pain

And that’s the kind of faith Job had. That’s the kind of faith Christ modeled. A faith that doesn’t minimize suffering, but let’s God meet us in it.

Even when we know these truths, our hearts and minds don’t always catch up right away. The pain still feels real, the silence still feels personal. That’s where therapy can help because sometimes what feels like spiritual distance is actually our nervous system and thought patterns replaying old wounds.

Psychology of Feeling Abandoned by God

Past Wounds Resulting in Feeling Abandoned

In the therapy room, I see it all the time, and maybe you’ve seen it in yourself too:

1. Trigger: Life collapses, a prayer feels unanswered, or the quiet stretches too long.
2. Automatic thought: “God left me.”
3. Feeling: Fear, shame, anger, despair.
4. Behavior: Pulling away from prayer, from church, from people who love you.

This pattern makes sense. It’s the mind doing what it was trained to do, that is protect you from pain by creating distance before you’re hurt again. But healing begins when we slow that story down and look at it with gentleness and truth.

Notice, Name, Normalize, Reframe

In Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, I often use a simple rhythm: Notice, Name, Normalize, and Reframe.

• Notice the thought: “God left me.”
• Name the trigger: a loss, a betrayal, a long silence in prayer.
• Normalize the reaction: “Of course this hurts. Anyone who’s been wounded would feel shaken.”
• Reframe with truth: “My feelings are loud, but they’re not the end of all. Scripture says He will never forsake me” (Deuteronomy 31:6; Isaiah 49:15).

And remember Job: he felt utterly desolate, yet still grounded himself in truth: “I know that my Redeemer lives.” (Job 19:25)

When you practice this, you’re not ignoring your emotion; you’re naming it and bringing it back under truth. You’re teaching your heart and your nervous system that pain doesn’t mean abandonment.

Now What Do We Do?

So what do we do when God feels far? When the prayers feel empty, when the silence gets heavy, and our hearts start to whisper, “He’s betrayed you, abandoned you, does not care for you”?

The first thing is this; don’t rush to fix the feeling. Healing doesn’t start by pretending you’re fine; it starts by being honest. You don’t have to put on a false face of faith for God. You just have to show up as you are.

4 Steps for Drawing Closer to God

So here are a few ways we begin that slow, sacred work of restoring trust.

1. Be Honest In Prayer

Don’t suppress your emotions, express them to our Heavenly Father. You can’t heal what you hide. God already knows your thoughts, but He invites you to bring them to Him anyway. So speak freely. Cry. Question. Even if your prayer sounds like Job’s: “I don’t understand You right now, but I’m not walking away.” That’s faith in action. And this is letting your emotions exist without judgment, and bringing them into relationship with God instead of avoidance.

2. Reframe the Story

When abandonment thoughts show up “God left me,” “I’m alone again,” pause and walk through the steps we talked about: Notice it. Name what triggered it. Normalize the pain. Then reframe it with truth. You might pray, “My heart feels abandoned, but that’s not who You are. You promised never to leave me.” Remind yourself of Scripture: “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Deuteronomy 31:6) This isn’t just think positively. It’s retraining your mind to align with what’s actually true.

3. Rebuild Safety Through Connection

Abandonment isolates us, so healing has to include relationship (with God and with people.) That might mean returning to community, or talking with a therapist, spiritual director, or trusted friend. When you let yourself be seen, even in weakness, you create new evidence for yourself that the Father’s love is unending. And as a little therapeutic tip: Every time you stay in connection when it feels safer to withdraw, your nervous system learns that love can be trusted again.

4. Choose a Small Act of Love

Pick one act that embodies who you want to be: a 5-minute prayer, a text to encourage a friend, a quiet work of mercy. Do it even if you feel nothing. Why does this help? It separates and identifies the difference between faithfulness and feelings. And it builds a “muscle memory” focused on faithfulness for our spiritual life.

When you practice these steps, remember you’re not trying to prove anything or earn closeness with God; you’re learning to see what has always been there. God hasn’t moved away; you’re just clearing the fog that pain left behind.

And that’s where I want to leave you today: with the reminder that you are not forgotten. The same God who met Job in his ashes and Jeremiah in his tears will meet you in your silence too. Because He doesn’t just make the promise to be true, He keeps it.

You may feel abandoned, but you’ve never been alone.