There are moments when time slows and I see life with a clarity I never thought possible this side of heaven.  And by life, I mean in the overall sense of our existence here on earth, not just my life or yours.

I had one of those poignant moments recently.  In a season that has been chock-full of poignant moments, not one of which I wanted to live through, for that instant I saw it all a little more clearly than I ever have.

It was a moment that should have been a private one but wasn’t.  So many of our vulnerable times happen like that.  I wish it weren’t so, but it is.

A man cried.  His circumstances were too difficult for him at that moment, and he wept.  With his wife there and friends standing nearby, the tears flowed.

Did I say I didn’t want to live through any of those poignant moments?  I don’t repent of the words but I do admit that, having lived through them, I wouldn’t trade away a single one of them, not least this one.

I watched his wife’s loving response to his emotion, gently pulling his head to her shoulder; I noted that not one of his friends turned away or expressed disapproval or discomfort.

There may even have been tears in my own eyes as I stood nearby.

The moment passed, but the lesson I am learning is still fresh.

We have believed—mistakenly—that it is impossible to see clearly when our eyes are full of tears. 

Those of us who care about such things seem to think the Bible teaches that tears are bad, that they are so horrid God will eventually do away with them forever. (Revelation 21:4)

I have come to believe instead that tears are a gift from above, straight from the heart of a Loving Father who Himself cries.

In times of great sadness, tears are a way for the body to release extreme stress, communicate our sorrow, or even take away pain. It’s a scientific fact; crying releases endorphins, chemicals that actually reduce physical and emotional pain.

A precious gift from a wise Creator who knew we would need relief in our times of sadness.

So, tell me again—Why it is we shame folks as too emotional when the tears fall? 

Why is it we tell our children the lie that crying is for weaklings?

The poet, ancestor to our Savior and a man after God’s own heart, made the claim eons ago that his God so valued the tears of His people that He kept a written record of them and even collected the tears in a bottle.

There is, without question, poetic license in the imagery.

It doesn’t change the truth, one I firmly believe, that God values our tears, our laments. 

He values them.

In the month since my brother died, I have cried as many tears as at any time in my life.  I cried them knowing that my brother is in the arms of the God he loved, but also overwhelmingly aware of his absence from mine.

We all know them—the tears that come with loss.  Every one of us has cried tears of disappointment, tears of frustration, even tears of joy.  And yet, we are embarrassed by them still.

Jesus wasn’t. 

He came to the people who were mourning His friend, Lazarus, and he was deeply moved.  After He came to the grave, He wept.  It wasn’t a little sniffle, with a tear or two wiped from the corner of His eye.  He sobbed out His own loss and the loss of those around Him. (John 11: 1-45)

You know the story.  But, may I point out one thing?

Our Teacher—our Savior—our God, was surrounded by His friends in his grief. 

I don’t believe for one moment He stood alone at that grave and wept to the air. He was with His followers, His closest companions.

His tears flowed into their shoulders and onto their robes as they gathered around Him.  It was the nature of their culture to uphold each other in grief.

I hope we don’t turn away from our friends when the emotion of their sorrow, their disappointments, their loss has them in its grip. 

I hope we won’t suggest to them that their tears are displeasing in any way to their God.

Some do.

And yet, others stay close.  I received a note just this morning, on the one-month anniversary of my brother’s death, from one I’ve known for many, many years.  She lost her own brother just a few months ago and she is painfully aware of the loss of a one-time playmate, co-conspirator, and strong supporter.

Because of the distance between us, there was no shoulder to cry on, no offer of a handkerchief with which to wipe away the tears, but I felt her presence and her love as my tears flowed again.

Weep with those who weep. 

Real tears.  Shared emotions. Yes, we’ll cry alone in the dark at times.  But, not always.

We’ll get through this as we walk each other along the road home. 

And, we will undoubtedly have the opportunity to rejoice with those who are rejoicing along the way, too.

Gifts, bestowed by a loving Creator who knows our frame and our innermost thoughts.

And still, He loves us.

Always.

 

Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.
(Romans 12:15, NKJV)

You keep track of all my sorrows.
    You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
    You have recorded each one in your book.
(Psalm 56:8, NLT)

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2022. All Rights Reserved.