I saw a man cry yesterday. I do not know who he was, I do not know what troubled him, but as I walked through the park in the heat of the day, there he sat, on a bench, head cupped in his hands and he wept.
It’s strange that tears speak no words, but in themselves they hide everything that needs to be said. As I walked by the broken man, slowing my pace, I saw his tears fall to the dry ground and realized that in those tears one could readily see a lifetime’s worth of pain, forgiveness, tragedy triumph, loss, and joy.
Tears speak without speaking, they tell the tale that we could never verbalize, and not one tear is shed that God does not keep account of, not one tear falls to the ground without God taking notice of it. It’s good to cry sometimes, there is no shame in it, Jesus cried, in fact He wept, for those of His time, as well as for you and for me, and all of humanity. He knew the priceless gift He was about to bestow upon mankind, He knew that once it was finished, we would have the opportunity to be reconciled to the Father, but He wept because He likewise knew how many would reject His grace, and denounce His love, and mock His sacrifice, and turn their backs on His loving kindness.
I don’t know why, perhaps it’s the fact that my wife is flying back to Romania tomorrow, but I woke up in a somber frame of mind, with a picture of the man crying on the park bench vividly etched on my heart.
Whoever this is for, God sees your tears, He has counted every one, He has gathered them up like precious rubies, and He will not be silent to your pleas.
With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr.