Carolyn had seen the muffled sobs that shook me in the pew and had come to gather me into her arms. Despite having only met twice before, Carolyn ushered me from the sanctuary to a place where I could unload the agony burning inside me. My father had recently passed away, and I was a wreck. Carolyn offered comfort and counsel while thousands of people worshiped God in the next room over. Carolyn met my need in the privacy of a ladies room. It was there where the Holy Spirit did a great work and helped to heal my hurt.
Each week for months after the passing of my father, I would return to church twice a week. Each worship time, I would find liquid emotion streaming down my face. The emotions that I had kept in check throughout the week could not be contained. Worship is suppose to be about God; it’s suppose to be about praising Him and honoring him. For me, worship had become a place of raw emotion where I met with God. As the healing of my heart gradually occurred, I cried less and less.
God is good. God loves me. God is worthy of my praise, worship, adoration, and devotion even in the darkest moments of my life. Humbling myself into submission to God’s plan for my life week in and week out has been the core of my strength in troubled times.
The death of my father, while agonizing, would not be the deepest loss I would face in life nor the last. In the 20 years since that time, I have shed too many tears to count. Yet, most of the times I have found myself giving into pain or grief have been times of solitude: the quiet car rides, showers, or restless nights. It seems natural to cry during such private moments when thoughts easily wander towards grief, but in the midst of a public worship service?
Crying in public is not socially acceptable. One can get away with it at funerals and weddings, but not walking down the grocery aisle or sitting at a Starbucks. So what makes worship different? I think two things. The first is that safety of the body of Christ. These are our brothers and sisters in Christ. This is our spiritual family. These are people in dwelt with the Holy Spirit, the same Spirit that dwells in me. There is not merely a camaraderie, but there is literal power when the person seated near you sees your tears and lifts you up in prayer. It physically brings comfort and healing. The second reason I believe this to be true is that as an individual member of the universal body of Christ we are one. In this oneness, it is easy for us to melt into worship as if there is no one else around. We alone are worshiping God, and in that divine communion nothing else matters. Once we are drawn into the presence of the Living God it is easy to be swept up in the moment.
So when you sit in church and see someone with tears streaming down their cheeks or wiping away that tear from the corner of their eye, lift them up in prayer. If God is calling you to personally minister to them, don’t ignore that call. However, for the most part, there is no need to interrupt the healing work the Holy Spirit is doing. And if you find yourself needing to cry, let it happen. Let the Great Physician do his work.
He is good. All the time.