Hey there, friend. Have you ever found yourself in that quiet space after the storm, maybe a little damp around the eyes, and a strange peace settles in? It might sound a little odd, but let’s talk about the savoring of tears.
Now, hold on a second. I’m not suggesting we go chasing after sadness. Life throws enough curveballs our way without us actively seeking out the blues. But what if, during those tough moments, those times when the tears just come, we can find a flicker of something… more?
Think about it. Tears aren’t just salty water escaping our eyes. They’re often a release. A letting go of pain, frustration, grief. They can be a physical manifestation of our vulnerability, a raw and honest expression of our hearts. And there’s a strange sort of beauty in that rawness, isn’t there? A testament to our capacity to feel deeply.
The Bible is no stranger to tears. Jesus wept. Think about that for a moment. The Son of God, fully human, experienced sorrow so profound that it brought him to tears. In those moments, did He just wipe them away and move on? Or was there a savoring, a recognition of the depth of His love, His empathy, His connection to our human experience?
Maybe savoring our tears isn’t about wallowing in misery, but about acknowledging the weight of what we’re carrying. It’s about recognizing the love that might be intertwined with the loss and the growth that can emerge from the struggle. It’s about allowing ourselves to feel the full spectrum of human emotion, knowing that even in sorrow, God is present.
Consider the Psalms. So many of them are filled with lament, with cries of pain and anguish. Yet, woven through those very cries are threads of hope, trust, and remembrance of God’s faithfulness. The psalmists didn’t shy away from their tears; they poured them out before God. And in that pouring out, there was a savoring of His presence, a clinging to His promises even in the darkest valleys.
Finding joy in sorrow isn’t about flipping a switch and suddenly feeling happy when your heart breaks. It’s more subtle than that. It’s about finding the glimmers of God’s grace, even experiencing pain. It’s about recognizing that even in our tears, we are not alone. He collects our tears in a bottle, the Psalmist tells us (Psalm 56:8). What a powerful image! Each tear, each moment of sorrow, is seen and valued by our Heavenly Father.
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
So, the next time tears come, don’t rush to push them away. Allow yourself to feel. Acknowledge the weight, the vulnerability. And in that space, perhaps you’ll find a quiet strength, a deeper understanding of God’s love, a moment of savoring the truth that even in sorrow, joy can find its way in. It might not be the boisterous kind of joy, but a gentle, abiding peace that whispers of hope and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
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I find tears a wonderful release sometimes. As you say, I don’t go looking for reasons to shed them. But when they come, they help a lot. I just finished reading The Return of the King, the last of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings series, and highlighted this neat quote in it: “As a sweet rain will pass down a wind of spring and the sun will shine out the clearer, his tears ceased, and his laughter welled up, and laughing he sprang from his bed.” I loved that comparison of how tears can clear the air and our vision just as a spring rain can make everything clearer after it passes.
Your words rang so true for me, Paula. It’s often in the midst of my tears that I grow closer to God… I find that he puts little gifts of understanding in my path and when I reflect I am always so grateful for those moments!