Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Cherish, don’t lament, those TEARS of yours

Photo by Kat J on Unsplash


IT happened three days in a row, and I’m not afraid to say, I am so glad. I cried. Wept healing tears. Not really for my own healing, yet perhaps also my own.
The first day involved the telling of my own story with brothers in Christ who have been to hell on earth and back, and the hearing of one fine young man’s story as he shared. Tears of joy and victory yet tears of sorrow for what was learned the hard way. Tears of connection deeper than words can express.
The second day involved a theatre production; real men acting brilliantly well, informing and inspiring, revealing their miraculous path via God’s grace into the land of the living. I sat there spellbound, speechless, hardly able to move, transformed in those seventy minutes. Those men were an extension of God’s Spirit as they transported me beyond the realm of reality into the destiny of millions destroyed by the scourge of substance abuse. I was shocked, and I needed to be shocked. (I should not have been shocked, as I’ve heard a thousand stories like them, yet every story is shocking, because each involves real people in tortuous plights.) Everyone needs to be shocked enough to elicit an honest welp; to be taken into that state of helplessness to know, there, right there is God. As I sat there, solitary big hot tears rolled, their own stream produced, wet enough to roll clean off my face. I was morbidly sorrowful, yet I was honestly so pleased to experience something that can only be described as healing, because I was connected in an instant with these few dozen men. Such a connection transcends time. I could know one of these men, and they me, in ten minutes. These tears were thankful tears; grateful for each of their wondrous lives.
The third day involved an incredible moment; a tenth anniversary since the stolen generations apology, the national apology to the indigenous peoples of Australia. You can never expect certain moments. To bear witness to the tears of the Aboriginal people elicited more of my own. The essence of reconciliation was captured in that one electrifying moment on February 13, 2008. (This article is not about politics, policy or its effectiveness, it’s about tears.) What my soul experienced is the vision of the Kingdom coming to this earth through such a momentous national event.
I felt God say, through His initiative within me, as He gave me cause to be honest as I was confronted, ‘Here is the truth, and the only way you can be reconciled to it is to weep inconsolably.’ My tears were not inconsolable, but my heart was broken. What God showed me inspired me to do whatever I can to bring change.
With each terribly impactful moment I was made anew; I could not return to who I was. I could not undo these experiences, nor would I ever want to.
Those tears of yours are precious and hard earned. They exist because you can no longer be dishonest. They roll because you cannot reconcile this sorrowful thing, but due the incomprehensible grace of God, these very tears are agents for your very soul’s healing.
We are geared to feel our sadness, because we are prewired to be honest. It’s why we resonate with sad songs; they speak to our unreconciled depths.
Our tears are our dear possession; the riches of a heart full enough to feel.
So feel them, and when you do, feel them fully and boldly, and you will not shrink, but grow.
Cry and give to your heart the gift of God’s Presence — the Lord counts all of them (Psalm 56:8).
Emotions are big, and they’re meant to be felt.

No longer be afraid of them. Tears are an honest response to God’s language of truth when life is deep.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.