The Mourners
4
The Mourners
If you want to know a person’s character, find out what makes him or her laugh and weep. This test is not infallible because we all have our difficult days, but generally speaking, it is true. It always amazes me when people laugh at a drunk or at a comedian impersonating a drunk. I see nothing funny in drunkenness or in drunken behavior. As a pastor I have seen too much of the tragedy of drink to be entertained by a drunk.
What we laugh at and weep over indicate our values of life, and values are a part of maturity. Little children will laugh at things that seem stupid to adults, and they will cry over matters that seem trivial to adults. I read about a terrible train accident in Great Britain that killed a number of passengers. In one of the cars was a mother with a little child in her arms, and the mother was dead but the child was unharmed. When the rescuers took the child away from the dead mother, the child laughed and played, but when they took away the child’s candy, she broke into a terrible tantrum of weeping and screaming. The fact that her mother was dead did not bother the child because she knew nothing about death. But she did know about candy!
That means that the higher you go in life, the more vulnerable you are in sorrow. You can escape sorrow if you wish to simply by isolating yourself from other people and from the affairs of life, but at the same time you will also be escaping joy. For the higher you go on the scale of life, the greater the opportunities for joy, and the same things that cause joy can also cause sorrow. Animals feel pain, and some pets seem to show sorrow, but for the most part animals know nothing of a broken heart. But how many of us are willing to become animals merely to avoid sorrow? Most children know nothing of the deep hurts that bring tears to adult eyes, but how many of us would want to become children to escape the pains of adult life?
Whenever you enter into the presence of joy, you make yourself a candidate for sorrow. A young couple that marries experiences joy. But suppose she comes down with a terminal illness, or suppose he is hopelessly crippled in an accident? A couple can bring children into the world, and children are a joy. But suppose one of them develops a fatal disease? Just about everything in life that brings joy can also be a source of sorrow, and the wrong way to escape that sorrow is to run away from life.
Jesus never tried to escape the sorrows of life. Neither did He deny that they existed. He transformed them. Jesus did not tell His disciples to go out and look for sorrow, but He did tell them that He was able to transform their tears and bring them comfort. Of itself, sorrow never makes a person better. I have seen it make people bitter. But sorrow plus Jesus Christ can bring a transforming experience of power into the life of the one who is mourning.
If you and I are to experience the comfort of God, we must understand the three kinds of sorrow that can come to us in life.
Natural Sorrow
First, there is natural sorrow. This kind of sorrow comes to everybody—saved and unsaved, rich and poor, young and old. It is a natural part of life. God made us to be able to weep. Some of the songs and sermons you hear give the impression that a Christian never weeps. But Abraham, the great man of faith, wept when his dear wife died. David wept when his rebellious son was killed in battle. Jeremiah wept when he saw his beloved nation go into captivity. Jesus wept over the lost city of Jerusalem; He also wept at the tomb of His friend Lazarus. Jesus never wept for Himself, and He admonished the women of Jerusalem not to weep over Him. When Paul said farewell to his dear friends from Ephesus, he wept and they wept. As you read the Bible, you get the impression that God expects His people to weep. “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die . . . a time to weep and a time to laugh” (Ecclesiastes 3:1–2, 4).
When God created the first man, He gave him the ability to weep, and He did this before man had sinned. Natural weeping is not sinful. On the contrary, it is a gift from God. There is healing in natural weeping. Doctors and psychologists have helped us to understand what really happens when we mourn, and their discoveries have helped us (with God’s assistance) to heal the brokenhearted. Natural sorrow expressed in mourning releases a healing process in people’s lives that enables them to accept the pain, work their way through it, and adjust to life again. In my ministry I have noticed that the people who, for one reason or another, do not mourn, do not easily adjust to new circumstances; their wounds never seem to heal.
Mourning is an expression of love. It is also a proof that the person has accepted the fact of the crisis and wants to handle it in an adult manner. When the pain is kept inside, it poisons the emotional system in the same way an infection spreads through the bloodstream. I have heard well-meaning people say in funeral homes, “Now, don’t cry! You know she is better off!” It is wrong to advise people not to cry when the thing they need to do more than anything else is to cry. This is God’s way of helping the mourner release the pressure and pain inside, and it is a perfectly natural thing. Some people have the idea that weeping is a sign of weakness. Self-pity is a sign of weakness, but not weeping. Jesus was the strongest man who ever walked on this earth, and He wept openly.
There is a hopeless sorrow that people who do not know Christ experience. “Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Paul goes on to explain why Christians have hope even while they are weeping. To begin with, for the Christian, death is sleep; the body goes to sleep, and the soul goes home to God. One day Christ will return and bring with Him those who have died in Christ and gone on before us, and we shall “ever be with the Lord” (v. 17). When a Christian loved one or friend dies and we weep, our mourning is certainly not for the loved one but for ourselves. Death is like an amputation, and the closer we are in life the harder it is in death. But our sorrow need not be hopeless because we have eternal hope in Jesus Christ and in the promises of His Word.
Unnatural Sorrow
The second kind of sorrow is unnatural sorrow. It is unnatural because its effects on our lives are opposite to what God wants us to experience. Godly sorrow heals, but unnatural sorrow makes the wounds deeper and fills the heart with pain. Natural sorrow gradually helps us to put life back together again, but unnatural sorrow tears things apart and keeps them that way. When you sorrow in a natural way, you learn to face and accept reality, but unnatural sorrow isolates you from reality and makes it difficult for you to adjust to the demands of life. I have known people who have grieved themselves into physical affliction and even mental unbalance. True sorrow enables us to experience the comfort of God, but unnatural sorrow blinds us to God’s comfort and seems to give us, instead, the condemnation of God; there is a growing feeling of guilt instead of an experience of grace. Natural sorrow enables us to remember what has been lost and use those memories constructively; but unnatural sorrow turns memories into punishments that destroy the peace and balance that God wants us to have.
Psychologists who have studied bereavement tell us that unnatural sorrow can have many causes. One major cause is selfishness. Self-centered people use other people—even the closest loved ones—to make their own lives safe and pleasant; if they lose a loved one it upsets their lifestyle, and it hurts. Their tears are more for themselves than for the deceased. Fear is another cause of unnatural sorrow—fear of the future, fear of change, perhaps even fear of death itself. Excessive tears and mourning then become an invisible armor to protect the bereaved from the hard knocks of life. They are saying, “Don’t lay any responsibility on me! Don’t demand too much of me! Can’t you see I have enough to bear already?”
But perhaps the greatest cause of unnatural grief is guilt. It is our way of atoning for past failures and sins in connection with the deceased. Some people atone for their sins by purchasing expensive, elaborate funerals. I recall one lady who took her life’s savings—all that she had—and bought her husband the most expensive casket available. She put her financial future into the grave with him, but it was her way of saying to him, “Dear, I’m sorry for the mean things I said and did while you were sick.” I think of another man who visited his wife’s grave almost every day for months after her death, no matter what the weather was, not as a sign of love but as a work of atonement. It reminded me of the great Samuel Johnson, who stood in the rain with his head uncovered to atone for a boyish act of disobedience to his father.
King David illustrates this unnatural sorrow that results from guilt. You will recall that David’s disobedient son, Absalom, tried to take the kingdom away from him—and almost succeeded. We get the impression that Absalom was a favored, pampered son; certainly he was a vain fellow who was proud of his beauty, especially his hair (2 Samuel 14:25–26). He secretly plotted against his father, drove David from Jerusalem, took over the palace, and then planned to attack David’s divided forces and utterly wipe them out. Instead, David won the battle and Absalom was slain, a judgment the young man certainly deserved. Before the battle, David begged his leaders, “Deal gently for my sake with the young man, even with Absalom” (2 Samuel 18:5 KJV). When David received the tragic news that Absalom had been slain, he expressed his sorrow in words that have become familiar: “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you—O Absalom, my son, my son!” (2 Samuel 18:33). While we admire David’s love, we question his thinking. Would it have been better for the nation for David to die and for rebellious Absalom to live?
There is no doubt that Absalom’s death was part of the payment that David made because of his adultery with Bathsheba. When confronted with the sin of “the rich man” who stole the ewe lamb—a picture of David himself—the king said, “As surely as the Lord lives, the man who did this deserves to die! He must pay for that lamb four times over, because he did such a thing and had no pity” (2 Samuel 12:3–6). David did restore fourfold: the baby died, his daughter Tamar was violated, his son Amnon was slain, and Absalom was slain. Because David temporarily lost control of himself, he temporarily lost the rule over his kingdom. It was a great price to pay for a few moments of pleasure.
But David’s mourning over Absalom was not natural. Second Samuel 19 tells us that the soldiers were actually ashamed of their victory because it brought such sorrow to their king. David refused to be comforted. Why? Because he was atoning for his sins. It took the blunt speech of Joab to show the king how selfish he was. “I see,” said Joab, “that you would be pleased if Absalom were alive today and all of us were dead” (2 Samuel 19:6). David’s abnormal grief had so isolated him from reality that he was unable to live like a king and rule over himself and his people.
The sorrows of life do not create problems; they reveal them. Absalom’s death and David’s unnatural mourning revealed to the world that David had not been in control of his family and that his own sins had found him out. Instead of trying to atone for his sin, David should have trusted God for the forgiveness that he needed. That is what he did when he confessed his sin of adultery and God graciously forgave him. “You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psalm 51:16–17).
Today we do not bring bulls and goats; we bring excessive tears as our sacrifices. Yet God wants neither one. The comfort of God comes to those who trust the grace of God, not to those who try to earn God’s comfort by unnatural sorrow. Even though our sorrows may be caused by our sins, as were David’s, we can still confess those sins to the Lord, claim His forgiveness, and experience His comfort. Absalom almost stole the kingdom from David, but David almost lost it by his own foolishness. When you reign in life you have control over your own emotions; when you give way to unnatural sorrow, you get off the throne and lose control of life.
Supernatural Sorrow
But the main thrust of this Beatitude is supernatural sorrow. Jesus is talking about repentance for sin, and that is the result of the supernatural working of God in your life. “Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death” (2 Corinthians 7:10).
This godly sorrow is the logical result of the experience of the first Beatitude: “Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” People who see their spiritual bankruptcy can respond in one of four ways. They can deny that their bankruptcy exists and, like the Pharisees, put on a front. But these people lead a life of deception, using most of their strength to pretend so that they have little energy left for living. Second, they can admit their spiritual bankruptcy and try to change things on their own. But this is a case of the poor helping the poor. Third, they can admit their need and so despair over it that they give up completely. This is “the sorrow of the world” that produces death. Judas saw he was a sinner and committed suicide. Peter saw he was a sinner and wept bitterly. That is the difference between the sorrow of the world and the godly sorrow that leads to repentance. The logical thing for people to do when they see their own spiritual need is to admit it and then turn to God for what they need. Those who are sincerely poor in spirit will mourn over themselves and their sins, and through this mourning they will experience the comfort of God.
We must distinguish, however, among repentance and remorse and regret. When my consciousness of sin rests only in my mind, then it is regret. When it affects my mind and my heart, it is remorse, and remorse is a dangerous thing. But when my concern over my sin brings me to the place where I am willing to turn from it and obey God—when my concern affects my will as well as my mind and my heart—then I have experienced true repentance.
You may remember the story about the Sunday school teacher who asked a pupil to define repentance, and the boy replied: “Repentance means sorrow for sin.” “That’s right!” said the teacher. But then a little girl spoke up: “Excuse me, but it means being sorry enough to quit!” She knew that repentance involves not only a change in feeling and thinking but also a change of the will. If people truly change their minds about sin, they will act differently.
The prodigal son (Luke 15) illustrates the truth perfectly; his mind, heart, and will were all involved in his repentance. His mind told him that his father’s servants were better off than he was; his heart made him sick of his situation (“I perish with hunger!”), and his will motivated him to arise and go to his father. Had he sat there in the pigpen thinking how foolish he had been, it would have been regret. Had he thought about his sins and hated himself for committing them, it would have been remorse. When he said, “I will arise and go!”—and he arose and went—that was repentance. His sorrow was a godly sorrow that motivated him to return home and experience forgiveness.
About what are we supposed to repent? Obviously, we should repent of our sins. “I confess my iniquity; I am troubled by my sin” (Psalm 38:18). We must be careful that it is sin over which we sorrow and not the painful consequences of sin or the fact that we have been caught. Too many people fail to see the difference. When sinners repent of their sins and put their faith in Jesus Christ, then they are saved. This was Paul’s message: “Repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ” (Acts 20:21 KJV).
Does God expect His own children to repent? I believe He does. Paul commended the believers at Corinth because they received his letter and “sorrowed to repentance” (2 Corinthians 7:9 KJV). On the other hand, Paul warned that same church that he would come and discipline those who had not repented, and certainly he was talking about professed Christians (2 Corinthians 12:21). In His last message to the church, our Lord commands His people to repent (Revelation 2:5, 16; 3:3, 19).
We must beware of an easy and comfortable dealing with our sins. It was this surface dealing with sin that cost King Saul his crown. The record is in 1 Samuel 15. First, Saul lied about his sin: “I have carried out the Lord’s instructions” (v. 13). Then he made an excuse instead of a confession: It was “the people” who had disobeyed God, not Saul. Finally, Saul used religion to defend sin. He said he would use the animals that were spared as sacrifices for the Lord. Even after Samuel exposed Saul’s wickedness, the king persisted in defending himself and blaming the people (vv. 20–21). And when King Saul finally said, “I have sinned” (v. 30), he still qualified his confession with a condition: “But please honor me before the elders of my people and before Israel” (v. 30). He was more concerned about his reputation than his character, what other people thought rather than what God thought.
From that point on, Saul began to lose his kingdom, and David began to gain his kingdom. It was David, not Saul, who defeated Goliath (1 Samuel 17). David slew tens of thousands of the enemy, whereas Saul slew only thousands (1 Samuel 18:7). Saul began to fear and suspect. He tried to kill David; he even turned against Jonathan, his own son. God departed from Saul, and the record closes with King Saul turning to Satan for help, inquiring of a witch (1 Samuel 28) and then dying in shame on the field of battle. Nothing leads to defeat in the Christian life like a surface dealing with sin.
This does not mean that the disobedient believer must wallow in self-reproach and condemnation, because even that attitude could be sinful. Paul told the Corinthians to forgive the man who had been guilty of sin, “so that he will not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow” (2 Corinthians 2:7). Why? “In order that Satan might not outwit us” (2 Corinthians 2:11). Satan is the “accuser of our brothers” (Revelation 12:10); he likes nothing better than to remind the saints of their sins and make them miserable to the point of giving up.
There are two extremes to avoid when it comes to dealing with our sins: being too easy on ourselves and being too hard on ourselves. Either extreme will cost us the enjoyment of our kingdom. King Saul was too easy on his sins, and he lost the crown; David was too hard on himself at the death of Absalom, and he almost lost the crown.
As Christians we must repent of our sins. That means more than admitting them and trying to explain or excuse them. It means admitting them, looking upon them the way God does, abhorring them, and turning from them. “A broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psalm 51:17). Simply quoting 1 John 1:9 in a glib manner is not true repentance. That promise is not an excuse for sin; it is an encouragement to believers who want to get rid of sin. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” That word confess literally means “to say the same thing.” If I am to be forgiven, I must agree with God’s verdict about my sins. King Saul said, “I have sinned” and then proceeded to argue with the prophet and make excuses. King David said, “I have sinned,” and the prophet said to him, “The Lord has taken away your sin. You are not going to die” (2 Samuel 12:13).
It is necessary for us to repent of our sins, but that is only the beginning. We all can mourn over our sins, but not too many people mourn over the fact that they are sinners. We should show sorrow not only for what we do but also for what we are. This kind of sorrow seems strange to the superficial Christian, but it was not strange to godly men and women of the Bible and the saints of church history. “Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me” (Psalm 51:5) was not David’s excuse for his disobedience. It was his expression of a deeper repentance. “I am not only sorry for what I did, but I am also sorry for what I am.” As you read Psalm 51, you realize that David was confessing the fact that his being was polluted by sin. His “inner parts” were defiled (v. 6), his ears no longer heard joy (v. 8), his heart was dirty, and his spirit needed renewal (v. 10)—even his tongue and his lips were paralyzed by sin (vv. 14–15). His eyes saw nothing but sin: “My sin is always before me” (v. 3). Here is a man who repented of his sins—but not in a superficial way: He exposed every part of his being to the searchlight of God.
But this mourning goes even deeper. We repent not only of what we do and what we are, but we also mourn over what sin does in this world. Jeremiah wept over the sins of his people. Jesus wept over the sins of Jerusalem. Paul wept as he ministered in the churches. All of creation is groaning because of sin, and the believer joins in that groaning (Romans 8:22–23). Although we thank God that He gives to us in this world “everything for our enjoyment” (1 Timothy 6:17), we also weep because our Father’s world has been so polluted and plundered by sin. The present crisis in ecology is but a symptom of that deeper crisis. Many people weep over the loss of precious resources and the marring of irreplaceable beauty, but few weep over the godless rebellion in people’s hearts that has caused this crisis.
We not only mourn over sin in our lives and in the world God made, but we also mourn over sin in the lives of others. When a member of the church at Corinth was living in shameless incest, the church members should have mourned; instead, they boasted of their open-mindedness (1 Corinthians 5). “And you are proud! Shouldn’t you rather have been filled with grief?” Paul scolded (v. 2). The Greek word translated grief means “to mourn as for the dead.” If the believers at Corinth had truly mourned because of that sin, they would have lovingly dealt with the offender and brought him to a place of repentance. “Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently” (Galatians 6:1).
Christians who are able to deal with sin in their own lives can be trusted to deal with sin in the lives of others. They will be neither too easy nor too hard. It is often the case that those who are too easy on themselves will be hard on others. Saul excused himself for disobeying God, yet he threatened to kill his son Jonathan for disobeying his own foolish commandment (1 Samuel 14:24–25). David was excessively hard on himself and yet too easy on Absalom. Maintaining a balance in dealing with sin—our own and others’—requires the wisdom of God and the leading of His Spirit. Satan welcomes either extreme. If we are too easy in dealing with sin, the matter is not settled to the glory of God; if we are too hard, it could result in “excessive sorrow” and defeat.
It may seem strange, but this mourning over sin can go even deeper. We mourn over what we do, what we are, and what sin has wrought in this world and in the lives of others, but we also mourn over our mourning. This may sound neurotic, but it is not. As we grow in grace, we realize more and more how inadequate we are to face God and deal with our sins. Jeremiah was not satisfied with his mourning. “Oh, that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears! I would weep day and night for the slain of my people” (Jeremiah 9:1). “This is why I weep and my eyes overflow with tears” (Lamentations 1:16). As we read Lamentations, we realize how deeply Jeremiah’s heart was moved because of sin, and the sin was not even his own.
When you and I learn how to mourn, then we will have a deeper understanding of the sinfulness of sin and the graciousness of God.
Spiritual Comfort
Christ promises comfort to those who mourn, but what kind of comfort is it? You can be sure that it is far deeper than sympathy, expressed by drying another’s tears or enfolding a child in arms of love. Our English word comfort comes from two Latin words that mean “with strength” (The words fortify and fortress carry the same meaning.) We are prone to confuse comfort and sympathy, but they are not identical. To sympathize means “to feel with,” whereas to comfort means “to encourage, to give strength.” Our mourning puts us in touch with the eternal resources of God, and the result is God’s comfort. “When I called, you answered me; you made me bold and stouthearted” (Psalm 138:3).
Our God is the “God of all comfort” (2 Corinthians 1:3). His attitude toward us is not one of hostility but one of love and encouragement. He is not against us; He is for us. This is one of the emphases in Romans 8. The Holy Spirit makes intercession for us (v. 26). God the Father delivered up His Son for us (v. 32). God the Son is making intercession for us (v. 34). No wonder Paul cried, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (v. 31). “ ‘For I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope’ ” (Jeremiah 29:11 NASB). Our comfort and encouragement is God Himself. “But David encouraged himself in the Lord his God” (1 Samuel 30:6 KJV). How different from King Saul, who refused to mourn over his sin. “Immediately Saul fell full length on the ground, filled with fear” (1 Samuel 28:20).
We have also the comfort of the Scriptures. “For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope. May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you a spirit of unity among yourselves as you follow Christ Jesus” (Romans 15:4–5). The same Word that reveals our sins also reveals the grace and forgiveness of God. Nathan said to David, “You are the man!” (2 Samuel 12:7). But he also said, “The Lord has taken away your sin” (v. 13). The sinful woman mourned at Jesus’ feet, and He said to her, “Your sins are forgiven . . . Your faith has saved you; go in peace” (Luke 7:48, 50). To the woman taken in the act of adultery He said, “Neither do I condemn you . . . Go now and leave your life of sin” (John 8:11).
God also gives us the comfort of the Holy Spirit, for the Spirit is the Comforter (John 14:16). He is the great encourager, the one who puts strength in our souls. In the Scriptures we have the objective source of comfort, and in the Spirit within, we have the subjective source of comfort. The same Spirit who wrote the Word lives in our hearts, and He opens up the Scriptures so that His comfort comes into our lives. Only those who have experienced the comforting ministry of the Holy Spirit can understand this holy experience.
Finally, God comforts us through His people. Often the Holy Spirit uses another Christian to bring us the encouragement that we need. God comforted Paul by the coming of Titus (2 Corinthians 7:6), and Titus comforted Paul by reporting that the problems in the church were being solved. In fact, one reason we as Christians go through difficulties is so that we might be able to experience the comfort of God and then share that comfort with others. God “comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God” (2 Corinthians 1:4). This does not mean that we must experience exactly the same trials to be of encouragement to others, because God’s comfort enables us to encourage those who are in “any trouble.” God’s comfort is not a luxury for us to hoard; it is a necessity that we must share. “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).
The Man of Sorrows
Our Lord was a “man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering” (Isaiah 53:3). He knew what it was to mourn, not over His own sins, of course, because He had no sin (2 Corinthians 5:21), but over the sins of the world and the havoc sin wrought in the world. He wept at the tomb of Lazarus, even though He knew He would raise Lazarus from the dead. In the garden Jesus wept “with loud cries and tears” (Hebrews 5:7) as He faced the cross, knowing that the eternal sorrow for sin would come upon Him there. What a paradox that He should suffer such great sorrow, at the same time looking to “the joy set before him” (Hebrews 12:2).
That Jesus Christ was the Man of Sorrows suggests that, as we experience true mourning for sin, we become more like Christ. It is significant that people believed that Jesus was Jeremiah returned from the grave (Matthew 16:14), because Jeremiah, too, was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. “Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Look around and see. Is any suffering like my suffering?” (Lamentations 1:12). Of course we must not major in mourning; there is also the “joy of the Lord,” which is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10). But as we pray, we see ourselves (as did Abraham) “but dust and ashes” (Genesis 18:27). As we see God’s blessing, we confess with Peter: “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!” (Luke 5:8). There is always new mourning and there is always new comfort, and this process makes us more like the Master.
The tears of believers work for them and are an investment in future joys. Not all of our comfort will be given today. “Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). “Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy” (Psalm 126:5). “He will wipe every tear from their eyes” (Revelation 21:4). Psalm 56:8 teaches us that none of our tears will go unnoticed by God: “List my tears on your scroll—are they not in your record?” If God sees the sparrow fall, will He not also see our tears fall? Heaven will be a place of no tears, but hell will be a place of nothing but tears. It was Jesus who said, “There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth” (Matthew 8:12).
There is one way that the believer will never become like the Man of Sorrows: He never wept for Himself; He always wept for others. He said to the sympathetic women of Jerusalem, “Do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children” (Luke 23:28). Until we see Him in glory and become like Him, we will have to weep for ourselves. “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect” (Philippians 3:12). But as we weep, we can be sure of His promise: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”