Sermon: Week 2 – Track 2 – “When It Hurts”
Sermon Title: “How Long, Lord?”
Scripture: Psalm 13 (NRSV)
Theme: Lament

When I was a child, I remember scraping my knee riding my bike. It wasn’t the worst pain I’d ever felt, but I cried like it was. I didn’t just want a Band-Aid—I wanted someone to see I was hurting. My mom rushed out, picked me up, wiped my tears, and said, “I’m here.” That didn’t erase the pain, but it changed everything. I wasn’t alone.

Now, fast-forward to adulthood. The scrapes hurt more, and Band-Aids don’t fix them. It’s the job loss. The cancer diagnosis. The broken relationship. The prayer unanswered. And in those moments, we might cry out—not with polite Sunday prayers—but with raw, aching honesty:
“How long, O Lord?”

Scripture: Psalm 13 (NRSV)

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I bear pain in my soul,
and have sorrow in my heart all day long?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Consider and answer me, O Lord my God!
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death,
and my enemy will say, “I have prevailed”;
my foes will rejoice because I am shaken.

But I trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Psalm 13 walks us through one of the most sacred spiritual journeys a believer can take—the journey through lament. It begins in darkness, wrestles with honest emotion, seeks God’s response, and ends in praise.

Let’s walk through that journey together.

I. LAMENT BEGINS IN RAW HONESTY (vv.1-2)

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?”

These aren’t neat, churchy prayers. These are desperate cries from a soul on the edge. David feels abandoned. Forgotten. Even attacked. The repetition—”How long… How long… How long…” is the cry of someone who’s waited and heard only silence.

Let’s be real. Haven’t we all been there?

• You’ve prayed for the healing… and it didn’t come.
• You’ve cried out for your child… and they drifted further.
• You’ve asked God for guidance… and only gotten more confusion.

⠀David gives us permission to say what we feel. You don’t have to polish your prayers. God would rather hear your unfiltered heart than your church-appropriate script.

Lament is biblical faith refusing to be silent.

And listen—Jesus prayed this way. In the Garden of Gethsemane, He sweat blood and cried, “If it’s possible, take this cup from me.” On the cross, He cried, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” quoting Psalm 22. If the Son of God can cry out in pain, so can we.

II. LAMENT PURSUES GOD’S PRESENCE (vv.3-4)

“Look on me and answer, Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death…”

Here’s what’s astonishing: even though David feels abandoned, he doesn’t give up talking to God. He pleads, “Look at me. Answer me. Light up my eyes.” His faith may be shaken, but it isn’t gone. He still knows where to go with his pain.

This is key. Lament doesn’t walk away from God—it runs to Him. It may sound like protest, but it’s actually an act of relational trust.

Just like a child runs to their parent when hurt, so David—and so we—run to the Father.

Paul echoes this in Romans 8 when he writes that the Spirit intercedes for us “with groanings too deep for words.” When we hurt so much that we can’t even speak—God is already praying for us.

III. LAMENT LEADS TO TRUST (vv.5-6)

“But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise…”

There’s a turn here. David’s circumstances haven’t changed. God hasn’t yet answered. But David remembers. He recalls God’s character—steadfast love—and that changes the whole tone of the Psalm.

David says, “I will sing.” It’s not because the pain is gone—it’s because he knows the story isn’t over. He’s hanging on to what he knows, not what he feels.

That’s what lament does. It allows us to feel the full weight of suffering while still declaring:
“I believe in God’s love anyway.”

This is what Hebrews 11 calls faith: “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Faith isn’t the absence of struggle—it’s holding onto God through the struggle.

IV. WHERE THIS HITS HOME – For Us at Trinity

So what do we do with this at Trinity—right now?

Let’s not pretend we’re not hurting:

• Our church has walked through loss—of people, of confidence, of direction.
• Some of you are facing silent Saturdays between Good Friday and Easter morning—grief without clarity.
• Some are carrying wounds from family pain, illness, uncertainty about the future.

⠀Psalm 13 invites us to bring all of that to God—not only our Sunday best but our everyday worst.

You are not weak when you lament. You are courageous.

And as a church, let’s learn to make space for people to hurt. Let’s become a place where it’s okay to say: “I’m not okay.” Let’s build a culture where lament isn’t a problem to fix, but a story to sit with.

And in the midst of the pain, we keep doing what David did—we trust, we worship, we hope.

Because we believe in the resurrection. We believe that pain is real—but it doesn’t get the last word.

In Jesus, Lament Is Redeemed

Psalm 13 points us forward to Jesus—the ultimate lamenter who bore our suffering on the cross.

But that cross wasn’t the end. Resurrection followed. And it always does.

So if you’re in the middle of a “How long, O Lord?” moment, remember:

• God hasn’t forgotten you.
• Your tears are not wasted.
• Your pain is not the final chapter.

⠀Trust in His unfailing love—because He’s not done yet.

Everyday Application: When It Hurts

What about us?

• When the diagnosis isn’t what we hoped…
• When the marriage is unraveling…
• When God feels a million miles away…

⠀Psalm 13 gives us permission to lament.

So let’s ask:

• What are you holding back from God because you think it’s too much, too messy?
• Where do you need to cry out: “How long, O Lord?”
• And even in the dark—can you hold on to the hope that God still hears?

⠀This week, try this:

• Write your own psalm of lament.
• Name your pain. Ask your questions. Then, end by writing one thing you still believe about God.

⠀Because here’s the truth:
God is not absent in your pain. He is present in your crying.

There’s a beautiful Jewish tradition called “sitting shiva.” After someone dies, family members don’t try to fix anything. They just sit with the grieving person for seven days. No advice. No quick words. Just presence.

Sometimes that’s what we need to remember about God.

He may not fix everything on our timeline. But He sits with us. He listens. And, in Jesus, He has wept like we do. Lament reminds us that even when it hurts—we’re not alone.

So today, if you find yourself crying out, “How long, Lord?”
You are in good company. And God is not far off.
He is close to the brokenhearted.
He hears. He remembers. He loves.

Amen.