No More Tears Left to Cry: The Night of Weeping

Last week was a lie. I have to confess that to you. I lied to you last week and made you believe that everything was alright. That life was normal. I tweeted and posted to keep up the facade of “business as usual,” when it was anything but that.

Last week was, perhaps, the worst week of my life.

My mom, the staid, sober-minded pastor’s wife of 30-odd years, has suffered a severe emotional and mental health crisis. For the past several days, my entire family has lived in limbo as we wait to get her back and navigate the unknown road ahead.

Never have I wept like I did last week. Never have I prayed like I did last week. A flood of emotions, ranging from intense anger to deep sadness to hushed courage, have raced through my mind with reckless abandon. My eyes are tired. Not due to lack of sleep (that may be true) but because I’ve cried them dry. I don’t know if I have any more tears left.

Whatever turmoil has dispirited my mom’s ability to think clearly has reached its ugly fingers to crush the rest of us, too. One by one, I see the harrowing grief of my family as we sit helplessly. Paralyzed by misery, we pray. It’s the only thing we know to do. It’s the only thing we can do. We are not without hope, though.

I can relay to you now that God’s mercy has flooded our family in the answering of many prayers. We’ve seen the Lord’s healing hand caress my mom and sustain her through this trying season. Likewise, we’ve been inundated with testimonies of friends’ and family’s intercessions on her and our behalf. There’s a long road ahead but we are exceedingly grateful and hopeful.

I’m exhausted from weeping. From crying to God. From screaming to my Savior to have mercy on one of His beloved daughters. To be gracious to my mom. I don’t know the “why.” It’s likely I’ll never know. But I’m clinging to One who’s Lord over every tribulation, and Captain of every storm. I’m hopeful because I’m praying to a God who knows all the feelings of mine and my mom infirmities. He’s familiar with our suffering and He’s faithful in the midst of it.

I’m praying. Because I can’t cry.

I have no more tears left.

2 thoughts on “No More Tears Left to Cry: The Night of Weeping

  1. Brad,
    Thank you for your honesty. In our current situation, battling with sorrow, doubt, sickness and sin in our life and the lives of people we love, we can feel at least a little of your desperation and grief. I am thankful for the raw honesty of the Psalms: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest” (Ps. 22:1-2). Many other saints have battled through darkness to faith and light. For whatever it’s worth, your transparency has encouraged me to keep on crying out to God. We will be praying for your mom.

    1. Thanks for the comment Matt! I was almost hesitant to publish this, at first, but I’m so glad it ministered to you. I’ve been uplifted by that Psalm in recent days. And by the fact that I know that my crying to God is exactly what He wants to hear. As difficult as my days are, all He’s after is my soul resting and finding solace in Him. Thank you for the encouragement. Prayers are greatly appreciated!

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