I am a weary weeper. Tired of sadness, tired of the very sound of tales of the reason others are weeping, so weary that I try to block the ears of my heart, but still I hear.
I am tired of my own grief and mourning over a list so long that I can’t write it all down. I would not have enough days left and thank God, laughter sneaks in unexpected but so welcomed. And joy, sometimes I feel joy rise from my toenails to the curls on top of my head. No more tears, I whisper, no more anguish. But wait, there is a time coming when there will be no more tears. The perfect promise keeper, the Lord God of All, Creator of the universe and everything in it, has promised that when Jesus comes again, and he will come, that he will wipe away every tear. This is beyond comprehension. I have pondered this whenever I read that verse of promise. Think about it. How many tears have been shed from the moment Adam and Eve walked away from Eden into a fallen world? How many of my own tears have trickled down my cheeks or poured out in a cascade like a roaring waterfall, unbroken sobs falling into a flood of sorrow. Not a soft, gentle weeping but a wailing, howling, choking crying that feels and sounds endless until your body is too exhausted to let one more tear fall, until your chest muscles ache with the pain of those sobs and your eyes are swollen shut, eye lids covering the unsightly eyes that glow with a red blood like unhealable wound.
Are all my tears mingled with those of other grieving widows, mothers, daughters, sisters, lonely, hopeless and homeless women with not one friend or fellow to extend a hand in love? Are there male tears stored there with those of women? Tears shed in private, wiped with a handkerchief or the tail of a shirt? And what of the tears of children? Are the tears of repentant victimizers kept with those who were victimized?
What about the invisible people? The homeless too many of us avoid, the man who mumbles in the confusion of relentless mental illness? The person whose repeated wrong decisions led to those tears? Are all those salty tears blended with mine? How many reasons are there to weep? How many wounds, disappointments, losses? Truly, Jesus are you going to wipe away every one of those tears? I know you dwell in some kind of timelessness but I can’t grasp that, hard as I try. It seems that it would take eons to wipe all those tears. Or maybe you will somehow wipe them all in one blink of our wet eyelashes as we stand before you. Or fall on our faces in shocked, stunned, worship. How is all that going to go, Lord? What will the order be? Wipe tears, gratitude from the dry eyed, worship, glorious singing, and all in perfect harmony? And what will perfection look like, feel like, be like? The New Earth will be such a place. That means those wiped tears are the last to ever be shed, ever, like eternally ever. You are the perfect promise maker, the perfect promise keeper but Lord God, my Abba Father, I can’t imagine some of this. Still I love thinking about it. The glory of it starts a different kind of crying, tears of joy.
Revelation 21:4New International Version (NIV)
‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”