A Theology of Tears
As one who has caused a fair share of tears for others and has experienced a host of my own on account of raggedy human behavior, "You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. You've kept track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights, Each tear entered in your ledger, each ache written in your book" (Psalm 56:8-9) has been a theological balm for me.
These past few years have been a wake-up call for me. I’ve learned that the conviction to live within the call and love of God and to see the liberation of others in Christ is not a winsome endeavor for everyone. I’ve also learned that none of the amalgamations of efforts with which I’ve tried to faithfully represent Jesus are the end all be all to ushering the shalom of God into the world. From my missional aspirations to my evangelistic piety to my activist bent, and losing interest in each action at a certain point, it is a theology of tears that has returned me to the beauty of the person of Christ.
On the days I was in the clutches of unceasing doubt and unrelenting anger, this poem that proclaims the divine tear-holding, friend present to me in the throes of utmost despair has kept me. For years, I was convinced that having the most articulate explanations of a gospel message heavily rooted in a warped view of violent atonement is what would enliven my soul and strengthen my obedience to God.
However, when one encounters the tears of others who are contemplating suicide, who have been lied to by their partner for decades, who have been called crazy for wanting truth to be brought to the light, and who are being bombed and displaced due to vindictive, unrestrained powers, you have to work really hard to despise people whose theology is rooted in divine empathy. A theology of tears, where God works to mend the hearts of the broken and the subordinated conditions of the poor has been the most recent way by which God has helped me trust Jesus is still worth following. “Mourn with those who mourn” precludes any Christian impulse toward entitlement and self-righteousness.
All this to say, thank you to all of you who have extended to me compassion for when I didn’t know where to store my tears. Thank you to those in all the different places where I’ve been formed to help me see Jesus even when we disagree. And I apologize to those whose tears I didn’t notice or deliberately overlooked to maintain my reputation and comfort. Truly. My rap sheet is not a clean one.
I’m still team Jesus, but I also accept that this means the Jesus I glory in may not be digestible to nationalistic proclivities, or culture-war-centered ways of defending Christianity. I know there are ways I’ve disappointed people who had ideas of the type of Christian I could be if I maintained certain stances or behaviors. I still long for your wholeness in Christ, as I believe most of you (lol) do for me.
I don’t know why I wrote this other than because I’ve been tearing up quite a bit recently, and I thought that perhaps some people needed to read that God has a place for your tears. You are not exemplifying distrust for knowing pain. The God in Jesus who entered this world that commits systemic terrors knows and draws near to you. Jesus is close to those who don’t think they can actually confess God is an ever-present help. The mercy of a God who shows solidarity with the hopeless rather than condemning them has been life-changing for me.
Alright, windy reflections over.
Luh y’all big time,
Ru :)
"You are not exemplifying distrust for knowing pain" I hate that words like these have to be said over and over, hate the horrors that loom large behind the need so many of us have to hear such words, but thank you for saying them, and for saying them so beautifully.
"However, when one encounters the tears of others who are contemplating suicide, who have been lied to by their partner for decades, who have been called crazy for wanting truth to be brought to the light, and who are being bombed and displaced due to vindictive, unrestrained powers, you have to work really hard to despise people whose theology is rooted in divine empathy."
I am increasingly certain that a Christianity done not among others, or that doesnt encounters others, is not actually Christianity. Being among people who feel like they can share where a theology doesn't quite fit what they're going through, and that had a humility that says "Hey, maybe i need to rethink that", is so important to truly seeing God move among us. Following Jesus is inherently shaped by the world around us, in both good and bad ways. Being in a community to discern which is which is so crucial.
Great writeup man. You have such a way with words.