When life feels unbearably heavy and the ache of unanswered questions lingers in the soul, I find solace in this: Jesus wept.
The One who held all the answers, who knew the end from the beginning, who commanded storms and raised the dead, felt the sting of sorrow and let His tears fall freely. He did not dismiss grief, nor sidestep its weight; instead, He entered into it—fully, tenderly, without hesitation.
His holy tears whisper to us that our pain is seen, that our broken hearts are not ignored. They remind us that sorrow is not weakness nor a lack of faith, but a sacred acknowledgment of love, of beauty, and of the loss they leave behind.
And though we may never fully understand the “why,” we can rest in the presence of the One who does. A Savior who does not rush us past our mourning but joins us in it, cradling us close until the promise of joy finds its way back.
When the night feels endless and the weight of unspoken questions presses deep, I anchor my weary soul to this truth: Jesus wept. The Son of God, the King of all creation, knew the ache of sorrow. In His holy tears, He made room for mine.
Because He wept, I know it is holy to grieve. Because He wept, I know my tears are not wasted. They are seen, gathered, and held by hands that bled to hold me close, hands that whisper, You are safe here.
My tears are not too much for Him. They are not forgotten, nor are they lost in the vastness of His glory. Instead, they are cradled with care by the One who understands every unspoken cry.
So, when the night stretches long and the questions remain unanswered, when my heart feels too heavy to carry, I let my tears fall freely. For Jesus, who wept, has shown me they are sacred. And in His weeping, I am reminded that I am never alone.
He is with me, always.
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