There’s an unwritten rule in the church that prohibits tears.
I’m not exactly sure where this rule stemmed from. But somewhere between my baptism and sophomore year of college when I failed Accounting with Professor Fairchild, I learned Christians shouldn’t cry.
We’re too blessed to stress. We’re too anointed to be disappointed. We’re too fly to cry.
Pity parties are banned from Christianity per the 11th commandment. Crying is completely prohibited.
I needed to not cry – so I kept busy.
Gym. Breakfast. Work. Gym. Dinner. Shower. Donuts every other day.
I closed off. I bottled up. I kept busy.
God was too busy for my tears and I was too busy for His do’s and don’ts.
Then the Tuesday came where God met me in my car.
I was fine. Like completely fine. At least I thought I was. Or maybe “fine” became my go-to response whenever someone asked how I was doing. All I know is that somehow I convinced myself that I was okay.
But God knew differently.
He cared. He genuinely cared. The pain I pretended wasn’t there. The healing I faked. The scenes I couldn’t stop replaying in my head. The taboo emotions church leaders aren’t allowed to feel.
Per 1 Peter 5:7 – He cared. He wanted it.
I screamed. I yelled. I was angry. Insert waterworks here.
There was a hole in my heart covered up with busy-ness and faulty validation. I was good at patching the holes. I was good at applying bandages. I was good at pretending I wasn’t hurt. I needed an Oscar.
That Tuesday not only did I discover that I was total isolation from my church community because I was too prideful to cry – but I restricted myself from being vulnerable with God because I didn’t trust Him.
His promises didn’t come to pass. He allowed me to get hurt. He covered His ears to my fasting and praying. Everything I experienced was in vain. And I didn’t trust Him.
But then there was a game changer.
In the midst of hurt, I now trust that God is sovereign. The same God who intricately knows the beginning and the end, loves you enough to say no to the things you think you want. He knows your strengths and weaknesses and precise scenarios that will help you grow. You can put all your eggs in this basket.
Healing takes time and I think God understands that. Maybe it’ll take you a while to trust again. I think God understands that too.
One thing I’m certain of is that every day gets better. Some days are easier than others, but healing does exist. Hurt flushes out when you deliberately decide to replace the pain with unconditional love. When you fully grasp that the love of Christ was not only extended to you, but to those who hurt you – you realize that even your enemies are precious in the eyes of God.
I’m here with you