The God Who Wept

"No other God has made Himself vulnerable to His creation—deliberately, consciously.  All other gods demand sacrifice but not this God:  “I will have mercy and not sacrifice.”" -Fiona Givens, The Weeping God.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?" (Marianne Williamson)

"Jesus wept"  (John 11: 35)

Why is it so difficult for us to comprehend a God who weeps?

Why does God weep?

Why is weeping associated with weakness?

These questions have been running through my mind since reading the essay The Weeping God by Fiona Givens. To answer them, I think it's actually best to start with the last. Why is weeping associated with weakness? Why should the display of such strong emotion be considered lacking in strength?

I believe that we are afraid of the power of our own emotions. We are afraid of our hearts that can feel so deeply, and so we hide them away behind many walls and barriers. I, personally, try my best not to show any of my really strong emotions, especially tears. Everyone at some point has done this- held back so that no one would see us cry. Revealing that deep well of emotion, that vulnerable part of yourself, is scary. We are afraid of the power of our hearts, and we are afraid that other people will break them.

Over so many years, we have built up our society so that the hiding of emotion is normal, and so to show it must be a flaw, a breakdown of the walls we build for the sake of fitting in. Haven't we all seen someone crying and thought "that's pathetic" or that they were weak? Haven't we all reprimanded those who were hurting, telling them to "tough it up?" Crying is not seen as anything but weakness. It is seen as displaying a lack of self control.

Thus, a God who weeps is seen as sacrilegious. God is perfect; He has no weaknesses. How then could He weep? How could He lose control in such a way? Though God weeps for different reasons than we, His imperfect children, do, this difference goes unnoticed by society. If tears are weakness, they do not belong to God, but only to man, in our imperfect, fallen state.

But what if weeping is not weakness, but rather just an expression of emotion? What if society's perception is backwards? What if tears are rather the outpouring of emotions that have caused a heart to finally overflow?

Then a God who weeps becomes an emotional being, one who cares so deeply for His children that He cries for our pains and misfortunes. He is constantly watching over us, no matter what we are going through. He helps us where He can but He also allows us to grow, even if it pains Him to watch.

Isn't this a beautiful concept? An empathetic God who is always with us, who feels for our pains, who sheds tears for our sorrows. A Father who wishes only to hold us in His arms once more. A divine Being who loves His children enough to cry for us.

It changes us as well. Weeping becomes something with a place, something okay.  Crying becomes less shameful for us. It is no longer weakness. If God cries, then why can't we? To weep with and for others is something we learn from Him. To cry in the depths of our own trials is to cry unto Him, to ask for His aid. Tears are more than human weakness. Especially in sympathy for the pains of those we love. Especially in our own brokenheartedness. It deepens our sense of a caring Father in Heaven who loves us and will cry with us. God our Father is willing and able to "mourn with those that mourn...and comfort those who stand in need of comfort" (Mosiah 18:9) just as He has asked us to do for others.

I believe that the true strength of the heart lies in the depth of emotion we can feel without apology- not the depth of emotion we can hide from the world while wearing a mask of a smile. I believe tears arising from our deepest cares are signs of strength, of a full heart, of a large heart that holds a whole world. Those tears are the most genuine of all. I believe these are the tears of God, and they come from a heart as large as the universe, that spans the stars and circles the sun, that sees galaxies collapse and still cries when we fall.

The God who wept is the strongest and most divine of all.

I'm Not Crazy, I'm Just A Little Unwell

Last night I realized something interesting. Granted, it was 12:30 and I'd been up late talking to my friends, but it's a pretty deep insight nonetheless.

It started with the realization that people who have never met me, but read my blog, or people who in the future might read my journals, would probably think "this chick is pretty pathetic." And they wouldn't be wrong.

But they also wouldn't be right.

Because I am a lot stronger than you could tell from what I write.

Last night, I had the thought that if strength and weakness had personalities, Weak would be an extreme introvert and Strong an equally extreme extrovert (this has nothing to do with the value of being introverted or extroverted at all), because strength is really only seen by others. And weakness is only seen by ourselves. Not exclusively, of course. But don't we all keep our weaknesses hidden inside and put our strengths on display?

But when I write, I'm writing from that inner part of me, where the weaknesses hide. Where my thoughts scream at me, confusing me and making it impossible to focus. My writing comes from the darker places in my heart more often than not, and so my weakness is on display. It's how I get my head in order, getting weakness under control and then straightening my mask of strength.

Yet my strengths do not get equal display room in my writing. Last night, I had the thought that this was because of the extroversion of strength. We focus so much on keeping it on display that we become unable to describe it ourselves. Have you ever been asked what you're good at? It's a hard question to answer, isn't it? Because we want to seem humble and not prideful, and because we don't recognize much of our own strength. Our mind lives inside us in the place where we've hidden weakness, and it peeks out through strength, like wearing a Halloween mask (holiday appropriate references are important). It can see glimpses of the mask, but never the whole face - only others can do that.

So if you came up to me one day and said "Erin, you're pathetic" I'd tell you that you aren't wrong. You just also aren't completely right.

Child's Fingers

When I grasp my hands together tightly, fingers interlaced, they feel small. And fragile. I open them and raise them above my face. They have childlike proportions-very small, short fingers, though the long nails help them look older. They are a child's hands, a little girl grasping for attention. "Mommy, mommy!" As I look, I see my truest weakness and deepest desire-to be loved. I have only ever wanted to be loved, to feel cherished by those I care for so deeply. You'd never know though. I'm good at hiding what I feel. On the outside, I am collected, mature. But within, a child, desperately grasping at her loved ones, hoping for affection and not knowing how to show the love she feels. It's not very fair to expect so much and give so little-does that make me bad? No, I hope. Just young. Young and growing in a world that offers the opposite of what she needs. And though she has two Fathers to guide her, a mother, church leaders, still she rebels for the sake of love. But she is strong enough to end it when the one she gave all to turns out to not be what she needs. The pain is deep but she's growing, I hope. And maybe on the day when love isn't all her focus, she'll find it. She'll learn to really express it. She'll grow up. And though she'll always have a child's hands, at least she won't be a child inside.