Randa is back! @randomchance08 is clearly one of my favorite writers. She is witty, humorous, and yet can get in your heart with a knife but not make it hurt. She lifts up others, encourages and strengthens the Body of Christ through her spoken and written words. Be blessed.

Funny thing about strong people crying.

When you are usually the one to hold back your own unshed tears in order to be there for and strengthen others, it feels foreign and almost shameful to weep.  Almost as if you need permission from someone else to allow the floodgates to open.

This is why faces are hidden and hands cover quivering mouths in front of others. 

This is why the profound crying is usually done in the dark hours and tears are deposited into mute pillows.  When the body and spirit relax enough to become transparent and vulnerable and the longings and disappointments are exposed.  When desperate prayers are finally whispered in secret to the only One who knows and understands and sees all.

Dear warrior, just because tears do not ensue immediately does not mean that you are unfeeling.

It is just that sometimes the weeping comes from a place so deep down inside that it takes a little while for the ground to break and the tears to come forth.

It takes time for the little child to finally climb upward through the thickets of self–imposed maturity, expectations and responsibilities, the layers and layers of armor that surround a throbbing, bruised heart.  It is a struggle to come to the place where he can finally look up and open his arms with undisguised helplessness and say, “Father, this is where I am.  This is where I hurt.  I am imperfect.  I am a wild failure.  Sometimes I don’t even know what I need, or what this longing inside even is, but You do.”

Human tradition dictates that appearing in the presence of royalty entails days and days of preparation, wearing one’s finest garments, scrubbed sparkling clean, and being as near to perfect as possible.  Poise and elegance are the standards.  If the king is to extend his scepter, he must be pleased with what he sees.

Not so in the presence of the King of Kings. 

His heart is moved to see a ragged, tattered soul appear in His throne room, running with abandon toward Him with arms outstretched, screaming, “Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me!  I need you now!”

He loves to see tears snaking down a dirt–spattered face as one of His children dash headlong toward His feet, sometimes tumbling and falling in haste to reach Him.

There is no requirement for perfection in this atmosphere. 

No need to hold up a veneer of smiling face and human strength.

His greatest delight is in knowing the need of the child for his Father, and pouring out His healing love into a wounded spirit who recognizes that no other place and no one else but his Father can fill the void inside.

And so the tears slide down uninhibited.  The echoes of the ancient prophet Zephaniah whisper through the air, “The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.” 

Self is forsaken. 

Spirit communes with spirit as barriers slowly crumble into dust.

An exhausted, hiccuping child is held close and rocked in the arms of a Father as He croons a love song, and an aching heart is quieted.

Randa Chance is a writer, speaker and pastor’s wife at the Sanctuary of San Antonio. She lives in San Antonio, TX with her husband, Shane, and their children. Her new book, Of Cabbages and Kings, can be purchased here. It is as delightful as and charming as Randa herself. I adore her.

 

 

 

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