Trust the Tears

The Tears of Things

Tears are a natural and universal emotional response, yet they carry a significance that transcends simple emotion. They appear in moments of grief, joy, awe, and fear, often emerging without warning. This unpredictable nature hints at something profound. Whatever it is, it is surely a message too deep for words. [1] Tears point to an inner truth that defies language, offering a silent expression of what words cannot adequately convey. In this way, they serve as a bridge between our inner world and the outer experience of life. They show us what matters most, what touches us at our core, and what calls for our attention in ways no words ever could.

This silent language of tears finds resonance in the book of Lamentations, the only book in the Bible named after an emotion. Unlike other prophetic texts filled with historical figures and events, Lamentations offers no such markers. Instead, it speaks to a sorrow that is universal, unbound by time or place. In that way, it transcends the particular and invites us into a deeper awareness of suffering as a shared human condition. Pain ceases to be isolated or personal, and instead opens a pathway to compassion for others. Felt reality is invariably wept reality, and wept reality is soon compassion and kindness. [1] This is the quiet wisdom of tears: they strip away the illusion of separateness and draw us into communion with one another. In this shared grief, we find the courage to stand with others in their suffering, not as fixers but as companions (Romans 12:15).

Tears also hold a power that anger cannot. While anger demands immediate response, tears unfold gradually, inviting empathy and transformation. Decisive and harsh judgments slip away in the tracks of tears. [1] There’s something about weeping that disarms us. Tears quiet our urge to accuse, defend, or demand. They soften the mind and heart, loosening the grip of harsh conclusions (James 2:13). In this softened space, compassion grows — not out of obligation, but as a natural response to what we have seen and felt. Tears teach us that real change happens not through force, but through tenderness (Ezekiel 36:26).

This kind of transformation is deeply connected to spiritual growth. As we mature, we begin to recognize that suffering asks for something more than outrage. It calls us to move past the instinct to blame and instead respond with compassion. Anger can’t make such switches. Tears can. [1] Tears have a way of shifting perception. They open the heart to mercy, to understanding, to the realization that no one’s pain exists in isolation. Tears move us from self-righteousness to solidarity, from judgment to care (Matthew 5:7). In this way, they invite us to embody a deeper wisdom — one that recognizes pain as a shared burden rather than something to be explained or corrected.

Ultimately, this movement is not calculated; it is deeply authentic. Tears arise from a place of honesty, where pretense and control fall away. They reveal what is most true within us. Tears reveal the depths at which and from which we care. [1] When we cry, we are no longer performing. In those moments, we are simply present — fully alive to what matters most (Psalm 126:5). Tears are not weakness; they are the evidence of a heart that still loves, still cares, still longs for healing. They remind us that, at our core, we are tender beings, wired for connection and shaped by the capacity to hold both grief and hope in the same breath (John 11:35).

[1] Richard Rohr, The Tears of Things