When Lament Is the Only Honest Language

A Meditation by Rev. Cameron Trimble

Jan 09, 2026

“Truth has stumbled in the public square, and uprightness cannot enter.” — Isaiah 59:14

man hugging his knee statue — Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

Grief is accumulating faster than we can metabolize it.

Many of us are still reeling from the murder of Renee Nicole Good, a life taken by a federal ICE agent, followed not by humility or accountability from our national leaders, but by a manufactured narrative designed to justify the unjustifiable. Within hours, government officials labeled her a terrorist. Video evidence clearly contradicts those claims. The truth does not matter. Control of the story does.

Before that grief could even settle, more blood was spilled.

In Portland, Oregon, two additional people were shot by federal agents during an immigration enforcement operation. Once again, officials claimed necessity. Once again, communities are left stunned and terrified. Oregon Governor Tina Kotek named what many feel in our bodies: the federal government is causing chaos in our cities and shattering trust across the nation.

Power rarely admits its own violence. It reframes it. It renames the dead. It insists the victim deserved what happened. James Baldwin warned, “It is not permissible that the authors of devastation should also be innocent.”1 And yet, innocence is precisely what this administration claims—through repetition, spectacle, fear and declarations of absolute immunity.

When the state kills and then lies about why, it asks the public to participate in unreality. That demand is itself a form of violence. Lament becomes refuge for the sane.

In the Hebrew scriptures, lament appears most fiercely when truth is under assault. The psalmist cries out not only against suffering, but against falsehood. Prophets rage when injustice is paired with deception. “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil,” Isaiah says—not as poetry, but as diagnosis.

This moment carries many layers of sorrow. The killing of innocent people. The terrorizing of immigrants. The violating of international laws. The withdrawal of the United States from global humanitarian commitments. The steady drumbeat of a masculinity that confuses domination with strength and cruelty with order. These are not separate events. They are expressions of the same moral corruption: the replacement of truth with power and care with control.

Grief, in this context, is discernment.

The Jewish theologian Abraham Joshua Heschel once wrote that indifference to evil is more insidious than evil itself. Lament is the refusal of indifference. It is what happens when conscience stays awake even as institutions fall asleep. It is what keeps us human when lies attempt to numb us.

So many of us are feeling anger, and it is warranted. Rage rises when accountability is mocked and victims are erased. Our African American and Native American siblings can attest after long histories of erasure. But lament gives rage a different shape. It slows it. Grounds it. Keeps it from becoming what it opposes. Lament says: This matters. This life mattered. Truth matters.

Faith traditions do not rush lament toward closure. They let it linger. They allow grief to speak in full sentences, not soundbites. They understand that before repair comes truth-telling, and before truth-telling comes the guttural cry: How long, O Lord?

So let us name together: calling Renee Nicole Good a terrorist does not make it so. Repeating a lie does not transform it into justice. And defending violence with propaganda deepens the wound it claims to heal.

We are allowed to cry.

We are allowed to rage.

We are allowed to say this is wrong, without qualification.

And we are allowed to keep believing in the long, unfinished work of goodness and justice, not because we are certain of outcomes, but because surrendering to lies would cost us our souls.

Be kind to your tender hearts this weekend. I’m going to let mine have a good cry. And then we get back to work for a more just and generous world.

We are in this together,

Cameron

Reflection Questions

What part of this moment feels most unbearable to you—the loss of life, the denial of truth, or the normalization of violence?
Where have you felt pressured to accept an official narrative that contradicts what you see or know?
What would it mean for you to practice lament not as despair, but as moral resistance?

A Prayer for the Day

A Prayer For Truth in a Time of Lies

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God of truth and breath,
We bring you grief that has nowhere else to go.
We bring you anger sharpened by lies.
We bring you sorrow that refuses to be pacified.

Do not let falsehood have the final word.
Do not let power erase the dead.
Strengthen our capacity to tell the truth plainly
and to remain human when cruelty demands otherwise.

Teach us how to grieve without hardening,
how to resist without becoming what we resist,
and how to stay faithful to justice
when propaganda is loud and truth feels fragile.

Amen.

Spiritual Practice

Giving Grief a Body

This practice is not about fixing your feelings. It is about letting grief move so it does not calcify.

1. Make a container.

Set aside ten minutes. Sit or stand in a way your body can sustain. Place your feet on the ground. If it helps, put one hand on your chest or belly. This is not symbolic; it signals safety to your nervous system.

2. Name without explanation.

Quietly name what is present without interpreting it.

“I feel anger.”
“I feel sorrow.”
“I feel numb.”
“I feel afraid.”

Do not analyze. Do not justify. Simply name what is true.

3. Let the body speak.

Notice where the grief lives. Is it heavy? Tight? Sharp? Hollow?

If tears come, let them. If breath deepens or shakes, allow it. Feel it as fully as you can.

If nothing happens, that is also information. Stay with it.

4. Speak the names.

If you are able, say aloud the names of those whose harm or deaths you are holding. Speaking names resists erasure. It keeps grief relational.

5. Choose one small act of care.

Before ending, choose one simple act you will offer yourself or another today: a walk, a meal shared, a message sent, a boundary kept. This is not activism yet. It is tending the ground so life can continue.

6. Close with care.

Place your hand back on your body and say: This grief is sacred. I am not broken for feeling it. I do not carry this alone.

Grief does not mean you have lost hope. It means you are still awake.

Upcoming Events That Might Be of Interest…

January 15, 2026, 7-8pm EST - FREE Online Webinar: When the Internet Hurts: The Hidden Online Dangers Facing Our Teens and How Faith Communities Can Respond, Join me in conversation with Sharon Winkler, survivor parent and nationally respected youth online-safety advocate. Sharon’s son, Alex, died at age 17 after experiencing cyberbullying and algorithmically targeted pro-suicide content. Since then, Sharon has dedicated her life to helping parents, educators, and faith leaders recognize online dangers and build safer communities for young people. Register here.

NEW!!!! February 5, 2026 - Margaret Wheatley and and I are launching a new online course called “Leading with Spirit,” a six-session journey into soul-grounded leadership designed to deepen your trust in guidance, nurture perseverance, and rekindle imaginal wisdom for our fractured world. Take a look at the course outline. We are really excited and hope you can join! Scholarship are available if needed. Learn more here!

February 11th and 25, 2026 - Join Our “Building a Culture of Leadership Within Congregations” Cohort facilitated by Rabbi Benjamin Ross and me! A two-session course for ministers and faith leaders ready to strengthen how their congregations and ministries identify, develop, and support leaders. Learn more here.

July 19-24, 2026 - Join me and amazing co-facilitator, Victoria, on retreat in the back-country of beautiful Wyoming. The Art of Wilding is a 5-Day Expedition for Women Leaders. We will spend the week reconnecting to nature, exploring our inner landscapes for change, and engage the wisdom of spiritual teachings. Click here to learn more.

I drafted a Strategic Framework for Congregations as we move into the coming years of increased authoritarianism around the world. If interested, you can download it here.

Fun Things My Friends Are Up To…

I get to work with such amazing, creative people. This section is my way of celebrating them—no paid promotions, just joy in what they’re creating.

Have you heard about the Franciscan Federation? I absolutely LOVE these folks and am excited about the future they are envisioning. If you want to learn more about Franciscan theology, check out their extensive website of resources. This world needs more Franciscan-hearted people. Count me in!

Are you a recovering evangelical leader in search for a network of people who understand your journey? Jonathan Foster and friends have launched the Curian Network. It’s a denominational space credentialing and resourcing pastors, chaplains, spiritual directors, and counselors in this wild day and age we live in.

If you are a leader or member of a congregation looking for consulting support in visioning, planning, hiring or staffing, please consider Convergence.