Tears You Never Let Fall
No One Is Allowed to Cry
When was the last time you wept? Not teared up at a movie. Not got a little misty at a graduation. I mean, really wept.
The kind of weeping that comes from somewhere deep, somewhere that words cannot reach. The kind that shakes you and empties you. Most of us cannot remember. And that might be the problem.
We live in a world that has made a virtue out of composure.
We celebrate the person who holds it together. We admire the leader who never cracks. We reward the one who pushes through without falling apart.
Somewhere along the way, we decided that strength means dry eyes and a steady voice. We decided that weeping was weakness. We were wrong. Composure is a myth.
When Strength Becomes a Mask
I recall a colleague who was going through a very serious trial some years back. His wife was in the hospital and she was dying. But he came to the office every day and was commended for his fortitude.
Something about the praise bothered me. So I went and had a heart to heart with him.
I knew he loved his wife. I knew he wanted to be there with and for her. And yet, he was conditioned to push through.
By the end of our conversation, he was weeping. Later he left and did not return until after his wife passed away.
God has not called us to compose ourselves. He has called us to be real.
The Invitation to Be Real
“Yet even now,” declares the Lord, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning.” (Joel 2:12)
That phrase, “yet even now,” invites us into a space where God is present in a special way. It is God leaning in. It is God refusing to give up. It is God saying that no matter how far you have drifted, no matter how long you have been gone, the door is still open.
And the path back runs directly through weeping. Not around it. Through it.
Sometimes we simply have to be real. Instead, we do something akin to code-switching. We change our masks to fit the moment. We continue the facade of holding on.
The song “Holding Back the Years” by Simply Red illustrates culture in context with pain.
We can spend years thinking we have “wasted all of our tears.’ Beloved, our tears are not wasted when they are directed toward God. These thoughts of waste cause us to “hold back the tears.” Yet, our pain, trauma, brokenness, adversities, and afflictions are not invisible to God.
We do not have to hold on. We can let go.
Tears Are Not a Problem to Fix
We have grown accustomed to treating tears as a deficiency. Something to be fixed, managed, or suppressed.
We hand people tissues and tell them to breathe. We say things like “It will be okay” before we have even sat with them in the pain. We rush past the weeping to get to the resolution.
But Joel does not do that. God does not do that. He lists weeping right alongside fasting and mourning as part of the return.
It is not a side effect of the process. It is part of the process. Weeping is not what happens when things go wrong. Weeping is what happens when we finally get honest about where we are.
There is a kind of weeping that is holy. It is the weeping that comes when we stop pretending. When we stop performing. When we stop telling God and everyone else that we’re fine. When we finally let ourselves feel the weight of what we have been carrying.
That kind of weeping is not weakness. It is worship.
Some of the most honest prayers ever prayed were made through tears instead of words.
God Notices Every Tear
David wrote in Psalm 56:8 that God collects our tears in a bottle.
He keeps a record of them.
Think about that for a moment.
The God who holds the universe together is also the God who notices every tear that falls down your face. He does not look away and grow impatient as if to say, “Pull yourself together.” He sees you and holds your grief with the same hands that formed the universe.
This is the character of the God Joel is pointing us back to. He is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love.
Our tears do not annoy God. Rather, God is moved by them. He draws near to the brokenhearted. He is not waiting for us to get it together before He shows up. He shows up while we are weeping.
Facing the Fear of Letting Go
So why do we keep holding back?
If we are honest, the reason we do not weep is not because we have nothing to weep about. We have plenty.
The reason we do not weep is because we are afraid of what the tears will open up.
If I start, will I be able to stop?
What does weeping say about me?
Will my pain be too much for the people with whom I associate?
We are afraid that even God might be tired of our mess.
Fear is the lie we convince ourselves to believe, but the invitation still stands.
The Beauty of Becoming ‘Undone’
“Yet even now.” Even after everything. Even after the wandering. Even after the silence. Even after the choices of which we are not proud. Even after the distance we have let grow between us and God. Even now, He is calling us back.
And He is not asking us to show up polished and put together. He is asking us to show up with our whole heart. Fasting. Weeping. Mourning. Real. Raw. Present.
The invitation is not to a performance. It is to a return.
Let the Tears Come
There is something that happens when we weep before God that cannot happen any other way.
The walls come down and pretense dissolves. The carefully constructed version of ourselves that we present to the world, and sometimes even to God, falls away.
What is left is just us. Dust, as Psalm 103 reminds us. Dust that is seen and known and loved by the God who made it.
That is where He wants us. Not stronger, more composed, or spiritually impressive. Just honest, present, and willing to let the tears say what words cannot.
Surrendering the Illusion
Weeping before God is not giving up. It is giving in. It is surrendering the illusion that you have everything under control. It is admitting that you need Him.
And that admission, that honest, tearful, undone admission, is the beginning of the return.
So, this Lenten season, if you have been holding back the tears, stop holding them back. If you have been telling yourself that you need to be stronger, let that go. If you have been waiting until you feel more worthy, or more ready, or more together, stop waiting.
The invitation is for right now.
Weep. Return. He is waiting.
And He is not disappointed. He is near.
When was a time you finally let yourself cry? Share in the comments below, and let’s walk this journey together.