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Tears - A Gift from God
A sermon preached by Dr. Peter James
Flamming, Pastor
First Baptist Church, Richmond, Virginia
July 25, 1999
Texts: John 11:35; Luke 19:41; Acts
20:37; Rev. 21:4
I want to speak to you this morning on the
subject of Jesus and our Tears. Tears. Don’t turn me out or
off just yet. See, when we hear the word tears, we automatically
put tears in the negative column.
Here are all of the positives of life – we
list them in our minds.
Here are all of the negatives of life – we list them.
Where do we put tears? Most of the time in the
negative column. Now, I am not for negative thinkers or negative
people. It reminds me of the time the man went in to get his hair
cut. His barber asked, "Where are you going on vacation this
year?" The customer replied, "Rome, we are going to
Rome." "Rome, Italy?" the barber asked, knowing
there are Romes roaming around in most of the states. "Yes,
Rome, Italy." "Don’t go," said the barber.
"The prices are too high, the traffic is awful, the
buildings are old, and the highways even older. Why are you going
to Rome?" The customer said, "Well, I’ve always
wanted to go. I love history. I want to see the Sistine Chapel
where Michelangelo did his famous painting. Who knows, I might
even get to see the Pope." The barber shook his head and
said, "That is the dumbest idea you ever had. Save money and
stay home."
Well about a month later that same customer
came into the barber shop and the barber said, "Well, did
you go to Rome?" "Yep, sure did." "I imagine
it was awful," said the barber. "On the contrary. It
was wonderful. It was one of the greatest trips of my life. Food
was wonderful, the traffic bearable, and the history was mind
boggling." "Well, I bet you didn’t get to see the
Pope." "Oh yes I did. He even talked to me."
"He did?" the barber was impressed. "How did that
happen?" "Well, on Sunday they had an outdoor worship
outside St. Peter’s Cathedral. After he spoke, the Pope came
down to meet the people. He stopped in front of me and even spoke
to me." Now the barber was very impressed. "What did he
say?" Joe said, "The Pope leaned over and whispered in
my ear, ‘My friend, that is the worst haircut I’ve ever
seen in my life.’"
Friends, I am not making a pitch for negative
thinking. I am just saying we put tears on the wrong side of the
ledger. For instance, we sometimes say when someone breaks into
tears, "He lost it; or she lost it!" Maybe. But that is
just the viewpoint of the world. From the point of view of
Scripture, tears are often the language of the soul.
I was fascinated by the work of a T.V. camera
man this week. He was sent like countless other camera men to
cover the ways many citizens handled their grief over the loss of
John Kennedy. I have forgotten which city it was –
Washington, Dallas, Los Angeles, New York.
His lens framed a middle aged woman with grief
written all over her face. Her cheeks were moist with her tears.
Plainly dressed, she stood alone, lost in her tears, holding a
bouquet of flowers. She just stood there, weeping, holding her
flowers. Rather than move on to another face, the camera man
pulled the picture even tighter until you could see the tears,
sense the grief, understand that probably lots of things were
surfacing at that moment.
And there was no sound. Tears make no sound.
Finally she stooped down and laid her flowers on the pile of
flowers already there. She stood and turned to go, but then
turned back, as if she didn’t want to leave. Finally, she
turned with her tear stained cheeks and was lost in the shadows
of the morning. No word had been spoken. Volumes had been
communicated. The incredible power of tears.
Amidst the noise and the clamor, the news bytes
and the news flashes, we have been forced to look once again at
the silent language of tears in a noisy world. In an ever
expanding impersonal world, tears remind us that we are not
things, we are people, people with feelings, people with needs,
people with joys, and sorrows, and memories no one can take from
us.
In his wonderful book, Seeing Through Our
Tears, Dr. Dan Bagby of the Baptist Theological Seminary here
in Richmond, describes tears beautifully:
Through our tears we express our hopes, fears, and passions.
They are like a bridge that unites our inner and outer selves.
Our tears are instruments of cleansing and release. They draw
toxin and tension from our bodies. They warn us of our needs,
alert us to our vulnerability, and heal our emotional wounds. . .
Weeping is a powerful language that lends understanding,
strength, and color to our passions. Tears are a window through
which we share our deepest selves with those we love. . . .
The New Testament is full of incidents that
hold for our gaze the silent language of tears.
There were tears of joy at the birth of Jesus and John the
Baptist.
Jesus wept at the grave of Lazarus, his friend. (John 11)
He wept again as he entered the city of Jerusalem, grieved that
they had no interest in that which made for peace. (Luke 19:41)
Mary Magdalene wept at the grave of our Lord after the
crucifixion, wondering who had stolen the body. (John 20:11)
Paul spoke of serving the church at Ephesus with tears. When he
said goodbye to the elders of the church who met him on the dock
at Miletus, they wept together as they parted. (Acts 20:37)
One of the last verses of the Bible declares that in the
resurrection, God shall wipe away all tears from our eyes. (Rev.
21:4)
As you can see, there are two instances when it
is written that Jesus wept.
Jesus Wept Over Jerusalem
It was toward the end of his earthly destiny
that Jesus entered Jerusalem as a celebrity. We call it Palm
Sunday. His response to the cheers, the hosannahs, the applause,
was not to wave to the crowd. Luke records that he wept over
Jerusalem, because they could not grasp and live out that which
would make for peace. Twenty centuries later peace is still a
struggle for the city of Jerusalem.
When Jesus wept for Jerusalem he communicated
in a way that only tears can – a combination of love and of
caring. But joined with that was the sorrow of his heart that he
seemed unable to connect them to His heavenly father.
Some time ago I read the story of Terry
Anderson, who spent time as a hostage in Beirut. Held captive for
almost five years, he was told he could go. He strained to focus
on the memory of his loved ones’ faces. From a distance he
saw the small figure of a woman coming toward him in the dim
morning of that winter dawn on the outskirts of Beirut. He had
been told countless times that his wife had died. Other times
that she had been killed. It was a strange irony that when Terry
Anderson was sent to negotiate the release of other prisoners, he
himself had been taken prisoner. Now five years later did he dare
to hope that he would be free again? Would he recognize his
children if he did get to see them?
He focused once again on the face of that
little woman in the distance. Was that really her? Was she really
alive? Every step toward her seemed to say so. When they were
finally close enough to see one another, the gentle, loving face
of his wife was unmistakable. He took her in his arms; she folded
her arms around him. Neither of them spoke. There were only
tears. Terry had rehearsed this moment in his mind countless
times. But now that it was here, words wouldn’t hold what he
wanted to say. Only his tears were adequate. For the longest time
there were no words – only the eloquent, flowing, language
of tears.
When our Lord wept over Jerusalem, it was not
that he could not speak. It was that words could not hold his
love, his commitment, his compassion for the city he came to
save, and a city that would not have him. When our Lord weeps
over our city of Richmond, he does not find himself at a loss for
words. Only tears will handle his love, his commitment, his
compassion, for the city that he came to save but so often
won’t have him.
Oh, Lord Jesus, thank you for your tears.
Tears at the Grave of Lazarus
When our Lord wept at the loss of his friend,
Lazarus, he did something that words can never do. He bridged his
way into every believer’s heart, in every land, in every
language, in every age bracket. His tears said what words can
never say – they said, "This is how much Lazarus meant
to me."
Back in 1981 word came that my father had taken
a turn for the worse. He was still articulate and said over the
phone, ‘I believe I am closing out my life." No
commercial airport is close. So I chartered a plane. My sister
met us at the little airstrip not far from their town. When I saw
her tears as she walked toward me, I knew he was already gone.
That night a well-meaning believer came to
visit. He never sat down. He stood throughout his visit, his
Bible open. He read some verses. Then he prayed. Then he left.
Apparently, he was the deacon assigned to Dad.
He had done his duty. How faithful and how
awful. What we needed, what our family needed on that night, was
not an abrupt set of words read and then prayed. What we needed
was someone who sat down across the room and with tear in his eye
said, "I want you to know what your Dad meant to me."
When Jesus wept at the grave of Lazarus, this
is what he did for all of us – he walked into the living
room of our hearts, and sitting down, says, "I want you to
know how much your Dad, your Mom, your brother, your sister, your
friend, your teacher, most of all you personally, mean to
me."
The Tear Free Environment of Heaven
But now the scene shifts. What our Lord could
not do on earth, he has done in heaven. He has prepared for us a
tear-free environment, an environment in which tears are no
longer needed:
No more tears when we say goodbye;
No more tears when we say, I’m sorry;
No more standing at an open grave;
No more looking at a broken heart;
And God shall wipe away all tears from their
eyes.
To communicate this with my spirit I remember
those who have had experiences of sensing or seeing a presence
from eternity. I am not talking about a séance here, but an
unplanned word from the other side of death.
I think of the time J.B. Phillips was at work
in his study when suddenly C.S. Lewis, with all of his ruddy
complexion, was there and said simply, "It is all going to
be alright, you know."
But my favorite breakthrough account is from my
friend Guy Greenfield, distinguished writer and teacher. As a
student at the seminary he roomed with the elderly widow of W.T.
Conner, perhaps the best Biblical theologian Baptists have
produced. He came in from classes one day and Mrs. Conner was
swinging on the porch swing. She greeted Guy and then asked if he
had a minute. He sat on the porch railing to listen. She said,
"The other day I was sitting right here. Suddenly W.T. was
sitting about where you are sitting. It was he all right. And he
looked at me and said, "Don’t worry. Everything is
going to be fine. Everything is very fine." He smiled and
then he was gone. "What do you make of it?" Guy, big
eyed, said he did not know. Turning to her he said, "What do
you think about it?" She replied, "I think the veil
between this life and the next is a lot thinner than I
thought."
What do I think? I think that accounts like
this are reflections of the fact that the Lord has prepared a
place for those who love him, a place where tears will no longer
be needed.
In the meantime, with tears in our eyes, let us
accept the fullness of the Savior.
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