It’s OK to Cry

“Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15 ESV)

“I just need to be sad,” she said.

She attempted a smile, but her eyes were pleading, her hands open, begging for understanding. She’d tried say all the right things about trusting God. She’d put up a brave front and tried to imprison all her doubts and fears, to arm herself with statements of faith and positive affirmations. But I noticed the tear threatening to escape the corner of her eye.

I wanted to tell my friend that God had great plans for her life, that God works all things together for good. That she would have a bright future.

Then I remembered. .I remembered a time when I had been in her situation, when the life I’d built had come crashing down around me, and all my hopes and dreams had been reduced to a pile of rubble.

During that traumatic time, someone gave me a book called Who Moved My Cheese: An Amazing Way to Deal with Change in Your Work and in Your Life. The book, centered on the story of mice in a maze, was an analogy for situations in the corporate world. The premise is that the people who fare best in life are those who can foresee changes coming and adapt accordingly.

The friend who’d given me the book wanted to encourage me to leave the past behind, to stop trying to retrieve my former life and move forward.

But as I lay alone in bed, silently absorbing the words on the pages, my eyes narrowed. I punctuated each paragraph with an audible little hmpf. I snickered. Then I slammed the book shut.

Don’t tell me about cheese! My cheese was not supposed to move! It was supposed to stay right where it was. Promises were made. Vows were taken.

Were we now exonerating the cheese-movers and blaming the mice?

Was I somehow at fault for expecting people to keep their promises and honor their commitments?

Was I responsible for my sorry state because I wasn’t smart enough to see it coming?

Now I look back on those times with wiser eyes, and I see the way God took my broken pieces and rebuilt for me a life much more beautiful than I could have imagined.  But at the time, when I was surrounded by a pile of broken promises and damaged dreams, I needed to experience indignation over the betrayal. I needed to mourn the loss of my former life. I needed to wallow. Yet as I grieved, I also held onto a thin sliver of hope–the suggestion that one day I would smile again.

So my first inclination is to tell my sad friend that she, too, will one day smile again. I want to cheer her up. But then I remember: she needs to be indignant over the injustice of it all. To grieve.

Sometimes we get the crazy idea that in order to be a good Christian, we’ve got to be upbeat, joyful, and courageous. Crying is not allowed.

But even Jesus wept.

He wept at the tomb of Lazarus. If you haven’t read chapter 11 of the book of John lately, take some time to check it out. The resurrection of Lazarus is a poignant scene.

When Jesus saw Lazarus’s sister, Mary, crying, he wept, too. Jesus, of all people, knew that the story would have a happy ending because he was about to raise Lazarus from the dead. But it saddened him to see his friend Mary sobbing. The Greek word for Mary’s weeping is klaio, which means to cry loudly or wail.  In Biblical times, funerals were loud occasions. The people turned up the volume when they mourned.

John 11: 33 says, “When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the spirit, and was troubled.”

“Groaning in spirit” is from the Greek word embrimaomai, which means groaning or snorting with anger and indignation. It’s like the snorting sound a horse makes.  It’s like the sound I was making as I read through Who Moved My Cheese.

Jesus felt troubling emotions. He groaned with indignation, maybe angry that the world is filled with evil, death, and sorrow for the ones he loves.

So when Lazarus’s friends and neighbors beckoned him, “Lord, come and see,” Jesus wept.  He didn’t ball and boohoo the way the mourners did. The word that describes Jesus’ weeping is dakryo, which is a silent weeping. In fact, John 11: 35 is the only time this Greek word is used in the New Testament. The heavy weight of sorrow that Jesus must have felt in his chest turned into tears.

Jesus knew that he would conquer death. He knew the end of the story. And still, he exhibited the same human emotions that we feel: anger, indignation, sorrow.

Jesus entered into the pain of his friends, and he cried with them.

So as listen to my friend, I enter into her sorrow.

Yes, I can understand why your hopes and dreams were so important to you, I tell her.

Yes, it is a tragedy that things didn’t turn out the way you expected. It’s unfair.

Yes, it’s OK to cry.

Margaret Kemp spends most days teaching a classroom full of lively five-and six- year-olds. She’s attracted to be fragrance of vanilla, the printed word, and all things blue and white. She delights in spending time with her husband and family, singing praises with her church choir peeps, and traveling. Her heart’s desire is to know God better and learn to trust Him more.

Photograph © Caitlin, used with permission