Men and crying are like peanut butter mayonnaise sandwiches. It just sounds like a really bad combination (and it might be, the sandwiches that is). With this in mind, some of the things I’m about to say might strike you as unusual, but stick with it because it might be worth a try.
I think I’ve cried more in the past three weeks than I have in the past three years. Clarification: I’m not sobbing on every available shoulder, but I am learning about something which gets very little attention. Grief. Growing up I always had the sense that crying was one of the most emasculating things. It could get you called a “Momma’s boy”. Our culture has had it out on tears, too—’big girls don’t cry!’ Here are some of the lies we’ve been fed (I should know because I’ve believed, thought and acted on each of these):
- Weak people cry.
- People who are crying just need to stop (making it awkward for everyone else).
- If you refuse to grieve, the pain goes away.
Last week I traveled down to Conway, SC (right next to Myrtle Beach) to help setup the camp I directed the past two summers. It was only a couple days but it was such a joy! I got to see a bunch of familiar faces, hang out with the incredible staff there this summer, and share (in a small way) in a ministry that has meant so much to me. When it came time to leave and the staff prayed for me, I lost composure. Tears. Later that day, after my plane ride home, I got in my car and cried some more.
The awesome TEAMeffort Myrtle Beach Staff, 2014. Keep ’em prayed up!
Here’s what I’m learning. Grief isn’t just for when people die—it’s so much more. It is any kind of loss: opportunities, relationships, expectations, and events. Jesus says people who mourn are blessed and they will be comforted (Matthew 5:4). Who are we to try to refuse others (and ourselves) the kind of blessing and comfort Christ promises?
Choosing not to grieving, or avoiding it doesn’t heal the brokenness. It just stays, bottled up, within us. It makes us numb, less vulnerable to life around us.
To grieve is to embrace grace, and Jesus is the personification of grace. I mourned the loss of getting to spend the summer with TEAMeffort yet in the process I was met with the overwhelming realization of God’s goodness. Who am I to have received this kind of love, this kind of providence, in the first place? That’s grace. That’s Jesus.
Maybe you know what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ve felt like you’ve been denied the opportunity to grieve. I want to tell you crying is okay, it’s perfectly alright. If you need to cry—or however you grieve—let it happen. Jesus doesn’t want you carry the brokenness of loss, or the guilt or the shame. He wants to comfort you.
Let Him.
