I am shut in so that I cannot escape; my eye grows dim through sorrow.  Psalm 88:8-9

Healing Father,

I was just thinking about the people in South Florida 

who are still recovering from Hurricane Ian. 

It’s been a little over a month since it devastated much of South Florida, 

and many people in other parts of the nation have moved on, 

forgetting it ever happened. 

That’s the way it so often works with grief. 

Our loved one dies; 

our home is wrecked; 

our relationship ends, 

and we are still wounded, 

limping through our daily lives, 

but everyone else has moved on. 

Thank you, good Father, 

for giving us time to grieve. 

Thank you for not rushing us through our pain. 

Thank you for teaching us to lament, 

to cry out to you honestly 

about the agony of our loss. 

Throughout Scripture, 

you give us words to speak to you, 

unexpected words, 

blunt words:

“You have put me in the depths of the pit, 

in the regions dark and deep” (Ps. 88:6).

“Your wrath lies heavy upon me, 

and you overwhelm me with all your waves” (Ps. 88:7). 

“He has left me stunned, 

faint all the day long” (Lam. 1:13).

Lord, in the depths of grief, 

may we keep turning to you, 

naming our honest complaint, 

and may we keep waiting 

to see you shed the light of your glory 

into our darkened hearts. 

May we trust that the day will come 

when the tears we have sown 

will be “reaped with shouts of joy” (Psalm 126: 5). 

Until that day comes, 

bring us the comfort only you can bring.

In Jesus’ merciful name. Amen.

Read Psalm 88; Lamentations 3; Psalm 126.