“I constantly remember you in my prayers night and day, longing to see you, even as I recall your tears….” (II Timothy 1:3-4)

You either cry or you don’t. You either value tears or you scoff at them.  You either wish you could cry more or didn’t cry as much.

Few are  neutral on the subject of tears.

I have a friend who could read the phone directory and the tears would flow.  They are always a half-inch below the surface waiting for the simplest opportunity to spill.

I’m the opposite. Only rarely do I shed a tear, and when I do it’s more likely to be in private while praying or going over a sermon the Spirit and I are working on.

I recall the first time I wept in the pulpit.

By then, I was in my third pastorate, although this was the first post-seminary church. The Lord had led us to a congregation filled with members who had grown disgruntled in their previous churches and had joined Emmanuel but had never coalesced into any kind of a unity. An evangelist and I had worked hard all that week trying to reach people for the Lord. Instead of joining in the work, most of our leaders sat back in judgment on the guest preacher. Because they did not care for his preaching style, the attendance dwindled throughout the week. On Sunday morning, the final service of the revival, the members sat back stonefaced and unresponsive. Finally, the visiting minister turned the service back to me, the youthful pastor.

That’s when I lost it.

“People, I don’t know what to do. The evangelist and I have worked hard all week and many of you have sat back criticizing. I see people here who have told me you were planning to join this church and you haven’t. And quite a few of you need to be saved, to give your heart to Christ. Yet, you have not responded to the invitation. And I want to tell you something. I don’t blame you.”

“I wouldn’t join this church either. There is a bad spirit in this place, and God is not going to let us reap a harvest of souls until we who make up the leadership of Emmanuel Church get right with Him.”

At this point, I thought of a verse of Scripture without a clue where it was located. “Folks, the Bible says judgment must begin at the house of God.” (I Peter 4:17)

I stood there quietly, tears rolling. A first for me. They were a sign of my frustration and helplessness.

God honored the tears. That night, in the evening service, the guest preacher long gone, the Holy Spirit broke open that church and did a great thing. The invitation went over an hour as many in the congregation came to the altar in repentance, then went to the microphone to confess and ask for forgiveness. That night, ten people were saved and many others joined the church.

No way do I attribute any of this to my waterworks. It was all of God. Yet, He honored the young preacher’s passion.

“Put my tears in Thy bottle; are they not in Thy book?” (Psalm 56:8)

–Your tears are precious to your Lord.

The tears of a faithful worker in the Lord’s vineyard represent a burdened heart, an awareness of one’s helplessness, a point of complete dependence on the Savior. Only when we reach that point do we arrive at a place where the Holy Spirit can take over. it is no stretch to say the Lord is always at work trying to bring us to the point of complete surrender.

–Your tears are healthy.

They ease the tension, and serve as a pressure relief valve.

Early in our marriage when I would find Margaret in tears for no discernible reason I could think of–hey, I’m a man; sensitivity is not our stock in trade!–she learned to say, “I’m fine. Just give me a few minutes.” Sure enough, after the tears flowed, she would be her old self again.

I’ve learned that lesson later in life, that shedding tears can be as healthy a tension-reliever as a run around the block.

–Tears are Christlike.

“When He approached, He saw the city and wept over it” (Luke 19:41).

Paul told the Ephesians, “From the first day I set foot in Asia, how I was with you the whole time, serving the Lord with all humility and with tears and with trials….” (Acts 20:18-19).

–True, not everyone is able to shed tears.

I seem to recall Billy Graham saying he is unable to do this. He said some have thought he was uncaring as a result (which is completely ridiculous the more you think about it). But–going by memory here–he said the problem was in his tear ducts.

–Tears can be an indication of a sensitive, caring heart.

That’s the plan, at any rate.  That’s why Scripture promises, “He that goes forth weeping, bearing precious seed, shall indeed come again rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him” (Psalm 126:6). The weeping is an integral part of the program, it would seem. Gospel-spreading is not to be a robotic act of mindless legalists, but warm-hearted sharing from the redeemed who are overcome by the goodness of the Lord.

–Tears can be faked, and often are.

Some women learn early in life that turning on the spigot at just the right moment gets them everything they wanted. Pity the men who fall for such manipulative tactics.

Shallow-thinking preachers sometimes acquire this skill too.  My observation is that they tend to congregate at the Pentecostal, charismatic end of the spectrum, although not always.

–As with everything we do as Christ-followers, our standard is the Lord Jesus Himself. He wept at Lazarus’ tomb (John 11:35) and over Jerusalem because of the judgment soon to descend on a rebellious people (Luke 19:41).  The writer of Hebrews says, “In the days of His flesh, He offered up both prayers and supplications with loud praying and tears to the One who was able to save Him from death, and He was heard because of His piety” (Hebrews 5:7).

Jesus wept in prayer, wept over death, and wept over the lost.

No one ever cared as He did, sacrificed what He gave, or dreamed as big as He did.

No one ever cared for me like Jesus.

“Lord, if necessary, break my heart that I may care more deeply and thus serve Thee more effectively. For Jesus’ sake.”