fighting back tears...

Something inside heaves and surfaces as a lump in the throat. Most of the time I’m left thinking, “What’s the big deal? Why am I on the verge of tears?” It was only a simple word. It was only a brief moment. It was only a small glimpse.

But I know it’s so much more. The eyes of the heart saw something that caused them to tear. The ears of the heart heard something that caused them to burn. And unlike so many things in the world on this side of the skin, the underworld won’t be regulated and relegated. Down below, there is no such thing as composure.

Honestly, I spend a great deal of my mental energy just trying to hold it together. But this poise becomes poison. A conjured control. A simulated smile.

But everything inside of me, and I mean everything, wants to weep like a baby. I want to cry for humanity, to shed tears for the greater part of this world homeless and hopeless, crying and dying, hungry and thirsty.

Oh, for the tears of Jesus. For the movement of compassion to pound in my own breast. For the sensitivity to feel the touch of a wretch on the hem of my garment. For the eyes to see the dwarf in the tree. For the ears to hear the moans of a leper. For the knot in the gut at the sight of injustice. For the words to speak to the deaf, the gaze to cast to the blind, the hand to reach to the paralyzed, the step to take to the crippled. The tears fell from this sinless man and he didn’t fight them back.

He cried over Jerusalem. He wept bitterly at the death of a friend. He sobbed loud moans in prayer on the mountain gathering strength for the coming day. Streams flowed down his cheeks as he allowed his heart to speak with tears. This language so silent gives voice to the underworld. These drops that descend the face of Jesus announce the presence of a crying King. One who is free about his feelings. One who isn’t too shy to cry.

I know he felt it. And on this day, I feel it too. I want to release these dammed up tears. They press their way to the surface looking for the light of day. I swallow hard and try to think about something else. But these longings become liquid. These wishes become water. These feelings become fluid. The underworld speaks and I, for once, can’t suppress the current. This is their day and I am their servant. I can master them for only so long. They must and will flow free. Tears never made good slaves.
The fight is over now. I’ve been conquered without losing, for those who sow in tears reap in joy.