Weeping With God

"Silent Solace", oil on canvas 9x11

I’ve noticed recently, among my family, friends and acquaintances, more and more of us are struggling with losses: loss of a good friend, a recent “heart stopping” diagnosis, an impending death, loss of financial stability, a mom raising a challenged child, loss of mobility, loss of memory, loss of physical strength, the loss of hope or joy, These specific individuals come immediately to my mind as representative of our collective losses and I lament.

When there’s loss, tears come naturally to many. Maybe your eyes are dry but you know that deep within there is hidden loss and your soul is weeping in sorrow. I believe in these moments of loss, God sees us and our tears. I believe there is hope and comfort even in these messy heartbreaking parts of life.

The following excerpt is from my book Art and Soul. My hope is that you will find comfort in the words.

“You keep track of all my sorrows.

You have collected all my tears in your bottle

You have recorded each one in your book.”

(Psalms 56:8, NLT)

I’ve often contemplated why it is that God “collects our tears.” I wonder if our tears are thoughts or emotions that only God can interpret. Are tears a form of communication between my heart and God’s? I believe so. He keeps these tears and holds them especially close, remembering my tears of profound sorrow, joy, and gratefulness. He remembers.

Tears, all through Scripture, seem to “move” the heart of God in a mysterious way. It’s as if He listens more closely because our honest selves are “spilling” out—not just reciting words we’ve been taught, but because the heart is uttering profound thoughts or feelings that words fail to describe. Tears sometimes arrive before tangible thoughts, warning me that unresolved hurt, or loss that hasn’t been sufficiently grieved, is rising to the surface. These tears before Him are precious, and He bends down and catches them as they fall. When we weep, we speak with our hearts, and God stops to listen. It’s been in those times of tears that I’ve been met with the most intimate of encounters. It’s unexplainable. It’s indescribable. It’s as if God were crying too, and His tears drench me with grace in an unspeakable, healing way. It’s in these moments, I’ve experienced the tenderness of my Father, the loving expressions on the face of Jesus, and the utter peacefulness of the Holy Spirit.

I jotted down these words and emailed them to myself as I waited for the results of my mammogram. It’s not characteristic of me to write in public, but surrounded by other women whom I imagine were worried about their own results, and sensing a somber atmosphere, I felt compelled to pen these words. When a nurse came to talk to me, I pressed send and turned my phone off. I was told there was an abnormality that needed to be biopsied immediately. I had been told the same thing the year prior when they discovered cancer. I felt like I had been punched in the gut by dread. On the way home, in the car, my sobs overtook me. As I pulled off the road, I gasped, “PLEASE God, NO, not again!” My words shot out between gulps of breath, as I allowed my mind to go down the frenzied trail of “what ifs.” When I arrived home and had dried my tears, I sat down to read the words I had written at my appointment. Tears started all over again, but this time they came from a place of trust. He was catching every tear, which meant He was very close. When I gaze through eyes filled with tears, everything looks blurred, but somehow, I see God’s compassionate nature more clearly.

“Weeping may tarry for the night, BUT joy comes in the morning.”

Psalm 30:5, NIV

“Arise, cry out in the night, as the watches of the night begin;

pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord.”

Lamentations 2:19, NIV