Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Making Room

What is it about us that instinctively wants not to cry?

We think it's weak. We think it means we aren't strong enough to persevere. We're afraid other people will feel sorry for us. That they won't take us seriously. That it is a reflection of our personal insufficiencies.

And sometimes, we're afraid that once we start... we'll never stop.

I've thought about writing about this topic for awhile, and in the past three days I've said the following statement to two different people:

"Some tears are good tears. Good tears are necessary. I'm learning to let them fall to make room for the peace."

In the past month, I've told three different people in three different circumstances that I'm wondering if sometimes we're not supposed to "get over it." That sometimes we're not supposed to shake that feeling in the pit of our stomach.

That sometimes we're supposed to dive right in it.

Maybe, in the middle of the storms... in the pit of our stomach that holds a heavy rock of fear or dread or sadness... we're not supposed to ignore it and run from it and "fake it 'til we make it."

Maybe that pit in our stomach is right where God is.

Maybe He's there, waiting for us to show up and face it so He can help us through it.

Maybe He's waiting for us to acknowledge the pit in our stomach and let the tears fall so we can make room for the peace He's holding in His hands.

Just for us.

I've said before that you can't fix what isn't broken. If that's true, why are we so afraid to be broken? Why is it hard for me to look into my best friend's eyes for fear I'll fall apart? Why are we keeping ourselves broken and full of tears?

There is a part in a Selah song, Unredeemed, that says: "Life breaks and falls apart, but we know these are the places where grace is soon to be so amazing. They may be unfulfilled, they may be unrestored, but when anything that's shattered is laid before the Lord – just watch and see – it will not be unredeemed."

That's how I am going to look at the tears. The place that feels broken. They aren't weak or something to be afraid of... they are just the places where grace is soon to be so amazing.

I'm learning to let them fall to make room for the peace.

blog comments powered by Disqus