Never let them see you cry.
Rub some dirt in it.
Big girls don’t cry.
No use crying over spilt milk.
This is what the world has to say about crying.
What happened to us? What caused this world to twist the act of crying, something natural and cathartic, into something pathetic and weak? I cannot count on two hands how many times one of my squad-mates has cried in the last five months and apologized profusely throughout the ordeal.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry you have to see this.”
“Sorry, I’m just being silly.”
Why? Why do we do that? We apologize for crying because we’ve been taught that vulnerability is synonymous to weakness. We’ve been taught that tears mean hypersensitivity. We’ve been taught that public displays of emotion are burdensome to those around us.
Shame over the way we’ve been created to grieve, mourn and process is a heavy weight to carry. Somewhere along the way someone taught us that certain behaviors are unacceptable, and so we try to change who we are to be more socially pleasing.
“I don’t want to seem dramatic.”
Charmagne, one of my teammates, said something incredibly profound a few nights ago, “so what if you are dramatic? Who decided that’s a bad thing? Really. Who cares? God created you the way you are for a reason. Why should you have to change that for anyone?”
I want to see a future where people are brave enough to let down walls that image and reputation have built up. I want to see people courageous enough to let those around them see who they really are, and what they really think and what they’re really feeling. I want to see tears celebrated and rejoiced over, because it means we’re being honest and it means were allowing ourselves to feel.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying we all need to be teary eyed over every little inconsequential thing, and I’m not saying that everyone needs to cry more. I simply want, when that moment comes, for us to let it happen with grace and strength and dignity. Our tears need no apologies, just like our savior needs no explanation. He did not rescue me from total depravity so that I could live my life boxed in and afraid to experience life: the celebrations and the hurts.
Psalm 56 says, “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book? Then my enemies will turn back in the day when I call. This I know, that God is for me. In God, whose word I praise, in the Lord, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can man do to me?”
God values my tears so much that not only does he keep count of them, but he also collects them in a bottle. If my tears are that valuable to the one who created us, then our tears and the tears of others should be equally valued by us.
Be fearless in your vulnerability.
Stop apologizing for your tears.
Be free.
My dead heart now is beating. My deepest stains now clean. Your breath fills up my lungs. Now I’m free, now I’m free. -Christy Nockels
