Hannah Heck

I have been in a season of deep grief this year after the sudden loss of my sister-in-law, Alison, one of my dearest friends, this March. In this season, the invitation to live deeply with the Lord has often been an invitation to wrestle with God in my questions, confusion, hurt, and sorrow. I have drawn from the Psalms in the practice of lament and praise. Sometimes this looks like sitting in silence, bringing my heart before the Lord over a cup of coffee on the porch. Sometimes it’s conversations throughout the day with the Lord—brief breath prayers of lament: “Why?” “I don’t want this.” “How long?” Sometimes it looks like leaning into a song of worship in my car or in the pew, letting the lyrics wash over me or pour out as a prayer before the Lord.

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This sorrow has had a counterintuitive connection with joy. As I have become more intimately aware of the ways my body holds grief, I have felt a growing desire to cultivate bodily awareness of joy—a more finely tuned antenna for moments of thanksgiving. I have been reading A Diary of Private Prayer by John Baillie (updated by Susannah Wright) and writing out, with freeform abandon, my gratitude to the Lord each morning.

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I have not been in a season to process large passages of Scripture, but I have meditated on the life of Jesus: the picture of lament as He wept over Lazarus (John 11), and His display of deep emotion and honesty in prayer before the Father in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26, Luke 22).

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Many times this year, I have borrowed the faith of those around me. Being in community and friendship with believers has encouraged my heart again and again, often giving me the words and perspective I could not find myself.

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I have hope that moving into deeper communion with the Lord can be found in heeding the invitation to bring my limits, lament, and longing honestly before Him—bringing my heart to the Lord as it is, and in doing so, seeing more of the Lord as He is.