Sunday, May 6, 2007

Dear God,

"Earth is the only place where we can praise God with our tears. In heaven all tears will be wiped away." I was struck by the words of our guest pianist as she spoke before she played a piece by the French composer Fauvre. "Earth is the only place..."

I have never considered tears as a method of praise. And yet there have been many times when I have stood humbled before you and tears were a natural outcome of my humility. When I had no words to speak my adoration, tears formed and spilled.

Several years ago I lead a retreat. I had brought with me small, delicate tear vases I had purchased in Jericho. I spoke about the daughter of a biblical character who was sacrificed by her father. She went away with her friends for three months, then returned for her death. She was buried with her tear vase.

In ancient Palestine all women had tear vases. And they were indeed buried with them. The legend was that the tear vases were carried into heaven and offered to God. I still have mine.
God knows I have shed my share of tears throughout the years. Perhaps I will carry mine with me as well.

Tears spilled at your feet are tears of trust. Who would trust just anyone with their tears? Several years ago a woman called me at the office. She asked if she could come to my study to cry. I was a little taken aback, but I told her to come as soon as she could. When she entered my office, I closed the door. The woman moved to the floor where she lay crying for a long time. It was clear that these tears had been held for many years. I just sat quietly while she wept. I did not attempt to stop her or try to comfort her. She simply wanted to cry with me.
Last year another woman called and did the same thing. They were both peaceful when they left my office.

I have witnessed the release of tears brought on by years of sorrow and grief. Unexpressed until that very moment the occasion was holy to be sure. I pick and choose my own weeping.

One time the church was having a very difficult time. I was calm, serene during a gathering of about 100 people. I did not react to the unkind, mean-spirited words that were being spoken. I was, however, crushed by the pain suffered by some. I realized my role was to listen, not react or become defensive. I was silent, praying inside my own spirit. When the meeting was over, I could only drive a quarter of a mile when gut-wrenching sobs poured out of me in a CVS parking lot. Down deep in my gut they rose up. I screamed them out, allowing each cry to express itself. I sobbed for nearly an hour until you comforted me and I was able to drive home. I will never forget that time. I wonder how these tears praised God. Maybe it was the moment when you and I were alone. I trusted you with every drop. I released them into your hands where you collected each tear. I will always remember.

Holy God,
I don't cry
like I used to.
For a long, long time
I cried every day.
You alone were my comfort,
my peace.
I cried until
you revealed my answer,
told me of your agape love.
I trusted you
immensely.
May I remember
that tears are holy expressions
of trust in the maker of tears.
May I recall to mind
each time you have received my tears,
freeing me for my future.
May I always give thanks
for the shed tears
of sheer thanksgiving.
May my love
be yours forever.

Love always, Andrea