How Should a Christian Handle Sorrow?

“If Psalm 56:8 is true, and God captures my tears in a bottle,” Cassie said, “I hope it’s an industrial-size one.” We smiled at her attempt to lighten the conversation, but behind each woman’s smile was a hint of sorrow—and the sisterhood of shared understanding. We knew what she meant. 

Each of us had felt the gut-wrenching pain of betrayal, the agony of watching a loved one turn their back on God, or the sadness of a fractured relationship. We’ve experienced the terror of a medical diagnosis; the ache of infertility, singleness, or loneliness; or the grief of losing someone we love. We’ve felt the hopelessness of unanswered prayers.

We too have cried an ocean of tears.

Cassie’s admission, along with the heavy weight in my own soul, led me to wrestle with the question: How should a Christian handle sorrow? What should we do with our feelings? Can we grieve in a way that acknowledges our emotions while still honoring God?

Sorrow Versus Lament

Sorrow is universal, but lament is uniquely Christian. Lament acknowledges and expresses our feelings without leaving us to drown in a pit of despair. Sorrow is part of lament—but not the whole of it. Lament channels the energy of our sadness into prayer. 

I take comfort in knowing that one-third of the psalms in the Bible are psalms of lament. Faithful kings, priests, prophets, and ordinary people bowed low under the sadness of this broken world and turned their grief toward God. Hannah was one of them.

Hannah

In a culture that deeply valued children—especially sons—Hannah was childless. Despite her barrenness, her husband, Elkanah, loved her deeply. Elkanah’s second wife, however, did not. Peninnah had many children and mercilessly tormented Hannah. Year after year, when the family traveled to Shiloh to worship God, Peninnah taunted her. I can imagine her cruel words.

“If God loved you, He would give you a child. He’s the one who opens and closes the womb, you know. He could do it with a snap of His fingers. Our father Isaac prayed for Rebekah to have children, and God answered his prayer. Why He doesn’t answer your prayers? He must not love you.”

Weary from the anguish of her barrenness and desperate for a child, Hannah wept continually. In a tender but clumsy attempt to cheer her, Elkanah asked, “Hannah, why are you crying? Why won’t you eat? Why are you troubled? Am I not better to you than ten sons?” (1 Sam. 1:8). 

Nice try, Elkanah—but no.

Go to God

“On one occasion, Hannah got up after they ate and drank at Shiloh. The priest Eli was sitting on a chair by the doorpost of the LORD’s temple” (1 Sam. 1:9).

In her anguish, Hannah went to the temple to talk to God. She could have turned away from Him—hurt and disappointed by His seeming silence—but instead, she ran to Him.

Human nature tells us to avoid those who have wounded us—even when that Someone is God. But He invites us to draw near: “Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28). “The LORD is near the brokenhearted; he saves those crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). 

We must not allow our emotions to distance us from the One who loves us most. In times of pain, God is our strong tower. We can run to Him and find refuge and comfort. Even when our circumstances suggest otherwise, God alone is the true source of life, joy, and meaning. He meets the deepest needs of our hearts and surrounds us with His peace as we trust in Him.

The first step in turning sorrow into lament is to turn toward God.

Tell Him How You Feel

“Deeply hurt, Hannah prayed to the LORD and wept with many tears” (1 Sam. 1:10).

Like Hannah, we are invited to pour out our heartache to God—honestly, yet reverently. Are you disappointed? Tell Him. Hurt? He can bear it. Do you feel afraid, insecure, or weak? Hopeless, discouraged, or even faithless? Tell your Father. Speaking your complaint won’t reveal anything He doesn’t already know, but it will unburden your heart and open the door to deeper communion with Him. 

Ask For Help

“LORD of Armies, if you will take notice of your servant’s affliction, remember and not forget me, and give your servant a son, I will give him to the LORD all the days of his life” (1 Sam. 1:11). 

No matter how often you’ve prayed about your desire, pray again—and keep on praying until God releases you. Faith, in its purest form, returns to God again and again, as a child goes to her kind and loving Father. Every time we pray, we’re saying, “Lord, I can’t do this alone. I need You.” 

The burdens we carry—our health, finances, family, and relationships—are too heavy to carry on our own. As we bring them to the Lord in prayer, we can rest in the security of His character. When we surrender our needs to Him, our hope is renewed. Knowing that Someone greater and wiser is in control quiets our troubled hearts.

Sometimes, after praying for a long time, we’re tempted to bargain with God. “Lord, if You answer my prayer, I promise to attend church every week, to tithe, and to serve wherever I’m needed.”

But Hannah wasn’t bargaining with God. She was surrendering. She yielded her longing for a son to the will of God, recognizing that even if He gave her a child, that child would ultimately belong to Him. And so it is with all our gifts—they are entrusted to us, but they belong to the Lord.

State Your Faith

Did you notice how Hannah addressed God? She called Him “LORD of Armies” (1 Sam. 1:11). Why not “Lord of my closed womb” or “Lord of my infertility”? 

Hannah’s prayer revealed her high view of God. She knew He was the Lord of her empty womb—but He was far more than that. He was powerful enough to command His heavenly armies to defend His people. In Israel’s history, God had empowered a small nation to overcome far greater enemies.

Hannah had heard stories of how the Lord brought down the walls of Jericho when the Israelites shouted (Joshua 6), how He fought for Israel by sending hailstones from the sky (Joshua 10), and how He used Gideon’s army of three hundred to rout the Midianite army with only jars, torches, and trumpets (Judges 7).

This was the God she prayed to. By calling Him “LORD of Armies,” she declared that nothing is too hard for Him.

When we base our prayers of lament on a high view of God, we testify—to our own hearts and to a watching world—that God is greater than any trial we face. He sees the end from the beginning, and He orders each chapter according to His wise and beautiful plan to redeem a broken world and bring glory to His name.

Hannah’s Legacy

Eli the priest saw Hannah’s faith and blessed her. “Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant the request you’ve made of him” (1 Sam. 1:17).

“Then Hannah went on her way; she ate and no longer looked despondent” (1 Sam. 1:18).

When Hannah left the temple, she entrusted both her prayer of lament and her longing for a child safely in the hands of God. Peace settled her soul, and quiet joy replaced her despair. Regardless of how God would answer, she had clung to Him and poured out her heart before the One who loved her.

Scripture tells us that God did give Hannah the son she asked for. She kept her vow and dedicated Samuel to the Lord. Samuel went on to serve God faithfully, providing needed spiritual leadership to a wavering nation. 

What if?

But what if God hadn’t given Hannah a child. What if His answer had been no?

Hannah understood—as we must—that God doesn’t always give us what we ask, even when our requests are good. “No” answers give us the opportunity to exercise deeper faith than “yes” answers. They remind us why we pray in the first place: because He is good, powerful, loving, wise, trustworthy, and kind. A “no” requires us to trust that His ways are higher than ours and that He is working not only for our present good but for eternal purposes. 

“No” answers invite us to trust Him.

As we bring our hopes, dreams, fears, and needs before the Lord, may we honor Him through honest prayers of lament. And may we echo Hannah’s confession, “There is no one holy like the LORD. There is no one besides you! And there is no rock like our God” (1 Sam. 2:2).