Weepy Worship

Do you sometimes weep during worship?

I do. In the past, it was “sometimes,” or “on occasion.” But in recent Sundays, it has been “always.” From Call to Worship to Benediction.

Is it because of grief? (Recently losing a spouse is like navigating a totally different world.) No. Weeping through worship has nothing to do with grief, because upon entering our church’s sanctuary, a deep spiritual connection to God’s presence invites me in.   

Was this how Moses felt facing the burning bush? Or Enoch when God took him directly to heaven without dying? Or Jacob at Bethel where he saw a ladder reaching to heaven? Or Elijah in the cave hearing not a thunder, but a small, still voice?

Most likely. Because all of them were overwhelmed by gratitude to God without whom they'd be dust. 

And these I am sure of:

Weeping is about the Holy Spirit healing past wounds; it is about reaching a point of total surrender and letting go of any form of control to God. For these, I need to be armed with wads of tissue.

I grew up watching my late mother, aunties, and even uncles weeping while singing a hymn, listening to the message, and reading the Bible. Huh?! I often wondered. But now I have joined their weeping club, and I see everything with 20/20 vision. They wept because they were happy, not sad. 

Scientists describe happy tears as a "dimorphous expression." The body uses a negative response (crying) to manage an overwhelmingly positive emotion. When gratitude becomes so intense it is unmanageable. Grace of tears!  

My faith brethren, with whom I worship the Lord Sunday after Sunday, and whose tears I have seen, may also view joy and weeping as interconnected rather than opposites. 

I felt deep sorrow at my husband’s funeral but I also experienced "bursts of joy" through gratitude for his life shared with us by God. 

Charles Spurgeon affirms this:  “. . . the gift of tears is a profound spiritual reality . . . tears are liquid prayers . . . the diamonds of heaven.” He views tears not as a sign of weakness, but as a tender, articulate, and powerful language that God understands intimately.

I sit up and through fogged eyes. I see a young lad behind the pulpit testifying about how he met God, turning his life around. Like me, he is weeping.