I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. (Lamentations 3: 19-22)

In American culture, stories are meant to entertain us. Stories of lament—that deep, messy outpouring of pain, anger, and grief before God—are not usually bestsellers. But painful stories of abuse, trauma, loss of self, and grief are important: So important, in fact, that the Old Testament has an entire book (Lamentations) dedicated to the Jewish people’s 67-year captivity in Babylon.

Lament doesn’t demand that survivors have everything figured out. It simply gives them permission to bring their truth into the presence of God, in their own time and in the way they choose. As painful as remembering can be, God promises us we will not be consumed by our stories.

The writer of Lamentations 3 says, “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope…” There is something powerful about that “yet.” It does not erase what was lost, or felt, or we wish had been different, but it also holds space for something else. The trauma happened, and yet… they survived. They are still worthy of love. What happened was not their fault. And the story of their lives is still being written. 

TIP: One way to extend an invitation to storytelling is to keep blank journals and pens in your office and offer them to individuals who might need a private space to practice telling their story. Whether they share them with anyone is their choice.