Merry Christmas!
This season is meant to bring joy and faith, and I always say it challenges us to remember that hope is alive. But for many, this season also reminds them of their suffering. There are those who grieve during this time for many reasons. Maybe they lost a loved one. Maybe they’re not doing well physically or mentally. Maybe they lost their job. Maybe they grieve a family that is alive, yet broken. Whatever it is—this piece is for those who are suffering this Christmas season.
One thing that has been heavy on my heart lately is how, as the body of Christ, we do not discuss suffering and lament enough. It has been a theme I’ve been especially conscious of as I disciple other women around me. There have been times when I’ve paused, listened, and chosen to sit in their suffering with them rather than preaching at them about a hope and joy they should be feeling.
This month, as I have for the last few years, I studied the book of Luke. Every year I learn something new, but this year Mary stood out to me more than anything else—though not for the reasons you may be thinking. Sure, it’s amazing that God chose her as the vessel He did. And yes, it’s incredible that Mary, becoming pregnant by the Holy Spirit during a time when she was engaged to Joseph, living in the cultural context she did, was able to hold onto hope and give birth to our Savior. None of this is what brought me to tears. Her quiet lament did.
Lament: a passionate expression of grief or sorrow.
According to Bible commentaries, lament through the lens of Scripture is a faithful, honest prayer that brings pain, confusion, or grief directly to God—without letting go of trust in Him.
I was scrolling on TikTok when a song called “Mary’s Letters” came up right after I finished reading Luke chapters 1 and 2, and it wrecked me. I’m linking it here because it is truly a work of art, but here are the first two lines:
“Dear God, I ran my thumb along the bottom of his foot and his toes wrapped right around it, and I cried.
Dear God, the other mothers sit around and talk about what all their sons will do one day, and I just smile.”
I sobbed.
Mary gave birth to Jesus, raised Him, watched Him take baths, play with family members, go to the temple, eat His favorite foods, dance to His favorite tunes, and spend time with His earthly father, Joseph. She saw Him be a child.
In Luke 1:26–38, we learn about the angel Gabriel who visited Mary and shared what was to come. She was troubled and afraid, yet even in her fear, she proclaimed, “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.” It’s easy to assume that she simply went about her day, but the reality is that Mary must have suffered. She must have been ridiculed, mocked, and shunned. She must have lamented—and time and time again turned her pain over to the One who called her blessed and favored.
David Guzik says:
“All this took more trust in the Lord than we might think. Mary agreed to receive a pregnancy that would be seen as suspicious, and this in a culture that had a potential death penalty for adultery. Mary identified herself with sinners so that the purpose of God would be fulfilled.”
In Luke chapter 2, we learn about the birth of Jesus. Verses 1–17 tell us how it unfolded, but verse 18 is what we’ll focus on: “But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”
I know for a fact that Mary looked around and could not believe this was her life. I am not a mother yet, but I can imagine the joy of seeing your baby for the first time. I picture her looking around with a mixture of hope and lament—knowing that while Jesus lay in a manger now, one day He would be laid upon a cross to die for you and me… and for her. A quiet lament. One that didn’t diminish the wonder, but still existed. The human side of being Mary.
Later, in Luke 2:34–35, while Jesus is being presented at the temple, Simeon says to Mary:
“This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”
Being the mother of Jesus meant that she would suffer. It meant she would carry lament with her until Jesus’ very last breath—and after. She would think about the cross every day of His life, and when she did, there would be a mixture of pain and hope for the rest of her life.
“Possibly no other human agonized as much over Jesus’ rejection and suffering as His mother did. This was not only because of the natural love of a mother, but also because His rejection was her rejection. Wonderfully, His vindication was hers also.”
Even at the end of Luke chapter 2, when Mary and Joseph lose the boy Jesus in the temple and He responds, “Did you not know I would be at my Father’s house?”—we catch a glimpse of one of the many moments when they had to parent Him while being reminded that this role was temporary. They were vessels.
I cannot imagine how Mary felt watching Jesus from a distance:
His first steps
His first time teaching at the temple
Helping Joseph around the house
His first piece of carpentry
His 30th birthday
Choosing His disciples
Beginning His ministry
And the cross.
Mary carried all of this with her and still believed, still had hope, and still knew that God was for her.
It is okay for you to experience suffering and lament this Christmas season. As you can see, suffering and lament are not uncommon in Scripture, and they are not foreign to the Lord’s children. You can feel the pain, have the questions, experience confusion and sadness, while still holding onto faith—just as Mary did. This Christmas season, you are not alone.
Hebrews 4:15
“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” (ESV)
And like Mary, you can look and ponder on the cross and the hope that His death brings to each and every one of us—the hope that suffering may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning. My prayer is that you feel seen this Christmas season and that you know God is just as proud of you when you lament as He is when you walk in victory. You are not alone this Christmas season.
With love,
The Hem Community
