When We Can't Understand: Singing Praise After Tragedy

By Sarah Mitchell

I read Collin Hansen’s line and it stopped me: “I don’t understand 9/11. But I praise God anyway.” That sentence refuses two common impulses: to pretend we have neat answers for suffering, and to pretend worship only follows explanation. It struck me like the first chord of a song that isn’t meant to resolve right away.

A song for questions

There are moments when the only honest music is a question. David does this in Psalm 13: “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” (Psalm 13:1-2 ESV). He doesn’t skip the question and he doesn’t skip the praise. By the end of the psalm he says, “But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation” (Psalm 13:5 ESV).

That tension—asking, hurting, and then offering praise—isn’t a contradiction. It’s an ancient rhythm of faith. Music has a way of holding tensions that our tidy theology sometimes wants to flatten.

Music lets lament and praise live together

Think of hymnody and the stories behind songs. After the sinking of his children and the loss of his business in the Great Chicago Fire, Horatio Spafford penned what became the hymn “It Is Well with My Soul.” That song didn’t deny grief; it transfigured sorrow into a fragile, stubborn trust. You can read that story and the hymn’s history on its Wikipedia entry (a clear, accessible summary): It Is Well with My Soul.

In the modern church, worship leaders are learning to sing the hard songs again—songs that name grief, wrestle with God, and still return to trust. That’s not sentimental optimism. It’s a posture: praise is offered as a faithful act even when understanding hasn’t arrived.

What Scripture models

Beyond the psalms, Habakkuk gives a striking image. He watches crops fail and yet says, “Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines... yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation” (Habakkuk 3:17-18 ESV). Notice: Habakkuk’s praise does not come from having answers. It comes from remembering God’s character when circumstances are bleak.

And there’s the promise that helps steady the heart without explaining every detail: “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28 ESV). That is not a formula to erase pain; it is a lens that orders our story differently over time.

Why musicians and worship matter right now

Music gives voice to what the mind cannot yet sort. A melody suspends judgment; an arrangement suspends the need for immediate closure. When a congregation sings a lament together, they are practicing a theology in real time: we will ask hard questions together and place our hope in God together.

If you lead worship or write songs, this matters practically. Your Sunday set can include honest prayers and psalms. A pause for communal silence can be as theologically honest as a stanza of a hymn. If you’re building a personal playlist to move through grief, include psalms, hymns borne of tragedy, and songs that name pain before they name trust.

For resources and a look at younger worship leaders shaping these practices, see our piece on the new generation of worship music: Worship Music for a New Generation. And if you want a daily habit for keeping lament and praise in rhythm, try the practices listed in our morning routine guide: A Christ-Centered Morning Routine.

Practical ways to praise when you don't understand

• Sing the psalms aloud. Pick one a week and read or sing it morning and evening.
• Create a lament playlist. Include historical hymns, psalms set to music, and modern songs that name sorrow without rushing resolution.
• Bring questions into prayer. Say, “I don’t understand,” and then speak aloud what you trust about God’s character.
• Practice communal silence. In corporate worship, allow a minute of intentional quiet after a lament-song—let the congregation hold the question together.
• Write a short stanza. You don’t need to be a songwriter—write two lines that name your grief and two that name something trustworthy about God, then sing them to a simple melody.

The church as an orchestra of maintained hope

Collin Hansen’s line points to a posture we often forget: praise is a maintained hope, not a concluded explanation. When we sing in the wake of tragedy we are not erasing questions; we are refusing despair as our final note.

This posture is communal. Singing together trains us to carry other people’s unanswered questions. Music makes us a body that can weep, wonder, and still point to a God whose love outlasts explanation.

Key Takeaways

• Praise does not require complete understanding; Scripture models asking hard questions and then trusting God (see Psalm 13).
• Music uniquely holds lament and trust at the same time—hymns like “It Is Well” show grief transformed into praise.
• Practical worship choices—psalms, lament songs, silence—help congregations and individuals process tragedy.
• Habakkuk’s example teaches praise amid loss: trust God’s character even when circumstances are bleak (Habakkuk 3:17-18).
• Try a simple discipline this week: sing one psalm daily and journal one sentence of trust.

FAQ

Is it wrong to praise God when I don't understand tragedy?

No. The Bible is full of faithful people who both questioned God and praised him (e.g., Psalm 13). Praise in the midst of confusion is an act of trust, not denial.

How can music help me process grief or unanswered questions?

Music strings feeling to language and holds tensions our logical minds can’t resolve. Singing psalms, hymns written from sorrow, or songs of lament creates space to name pain and rehearse trust together.

What should I sing if I want to praise but can't fake joy?

Start with honest material: sung psalms, hymns that arose from loss, and modern songs that allow lament. Include moments of silence in worship. If you lead, give permission for honesty; if you participate, sing what you can and bring the rest before God in prayer.

Next step

Tonight, pick one psalm (try Psalm 13 or Habakkuk 3) and read it twice. The first time, read it as a list of honest questions. The second time, underline one phrase that points you back to God’s character. Memorize that phrase this week and sing it once a day until it becomes a bridge between your question and your praise.

“Though the fig tree should not blossom... yet I will rejoice in the Lord” (Habakkuk 3:17-18). Let that be a small hymn in your mouth when your head has no answers.

For reflection on worship practices among new voices and how to build a daily music habit that holds lament and praise, visit our pieces on worship music and morning rhythms linked above.

For those wanting to remember the events that shaped Collin Hansen’s sentence, the 9/11 Memorial maintains a thoughtful archive and resources: 9/11 Memorial & Museum.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is it wrong to praise God when I don't understand tragedy?

No. The Bible contains many examples (like Psalm 13) of people asking hard questions and still offering praise. Praise amid confusion is an act of trust, not denial.

How can music help me process grief or unanswered questions?

Music connects feeling to language and holds tensions that reasoning alone can’t. Singing psalms, hymns birthed from sorrow, and songs of lament creates space to name pain and rehearse trust together.

What should I sing if I want to praise but can't fake joy?

Start with honest material: a psalm set to music, a hymn written from loss, or modern lament songs. Include silence and simple prayers. Sing what you can and bring the rest before God.