Pass Me the Kleenex Box!

As an old jock and a former strength coach, I never dreamed I would ever blog on crying. Wow, how life changes!

In the New Hampshire primary, Hilary Clinton came back from a double digit deficit in the polls to beat Barack Obama in one of the greatest upsets in primary election history. Many pundits attributed her victory to a moment when she showed her humanity and vulnerability by getting teary eyed at a luncheon the day before the ballots were cast.

I am not writing to comment on whether or not her tears were induced by personal pity because of her position in the polls, or by a sincere concern for the future of our country. I am writing this blog because I am disturbed at how people respond so negatively to crying. Talk show host after talk show host made fun of Hilary for crying. They seemed to correlate crying with weakness.

From the first day of parenthood, we become consumed with the thought—“stop crying”. I have three young boys who shed tears daily. My wife and I are constantly telling them to stop wailing. I wonder if this conditions us to view crying in a negative manner.

Why do we despise crying? The main reason we despise crying is because it makes us uncomfortable. We don’t like to see people, hurt, sad or frustrated, and rightfully so. However, just because crying makes us feel uncomfortable doesn’t mean we should view it with disdain.

I personally think more people in our society need to cry. In fact, a lack a crying can indicate that a person is shut down, closed off, hard-hearted, and has let their love grow cold. Crying shows that we are human, and it displays that we care. It can be very therapeutic and deeply healing to our soul. Crying can also demonstrate that we are people with passion.

Jesus was the strongest and most secure person to ever walk on planet earth. He had a profound love for people and a burning zeal to accomplish His Father’s will. Jesus was a man who revealed his heart to people through tears.

Luke 19:41 says, “As he (Jesus) approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it.” Jesus knew that Jerusalem would eventually be destroyed by their enemies because they did not recognize the time of God’s visitation. He responded to this predicament with lament.

He also sympathetically wept with Martha and Mary over the death of their brother Lazarus. John 11:33-35 says, “When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. (34) “Where have you laid him?” “Come and see, Lord,” they replied. (35) Jesus wept.”

My most memorable moments in life are stained with the salt of my tears.

I cried when I received Jesus as my Lord and Savior. I cried as I danced with my wife on my wedding day. I cried during the birth of each one of my three boys. I cried facilitating the weddings of my close friends. I cried conducting the funerals for parents who lost their babies. I cried when my boys scored a touchdown in football, hit a homerun in baseball, kicked a goal in soccer, and played a song on the piano at their recitals.

My tears represent my ardency, my convictions, my love, and my compassion.

As I approach forty, I find myself crying more than I have ever cried in my life. The tears I shed are not because I am sad, frustrated or hurt. No, I am not getting soft in my old age. My tears are a sign that I am alive.

I cried on my last date night with my wife at AMC theatres when Wiley College beat Harvard in the movie “The Great Debaters” (sorry if I ruined it for you). While watching the South Carolina Republican debates, I cried when former Governor Mike Huckabee perfectly answered a question on marriage in an age when this vital institution is under attack.

While ironing my shirt for Sunday service, I even cried watching a re-run of “Footloose” on television when Reverend Moore gave Ren and his senior class his blessing to conduct a high school dance. I cry when I think about the love of God and what it cost Jesus to save my life. I often cry during worship in church. I cry when I think about how much I love my family.

I’m full of life and full of tears, and I am not ashamed to say, “Pass me the Kleenex box please.”