When we weep

My advice to my daughters has always been: “If in doubt, burst into tears!” And you know what? It usually works.

Tears have been in the headlines this week. Our Chancellor was seen weeping openly during Prime Minister’s Questions—clearly in distress, with nowhere to go. We don’t know why, but the rawness of the moment spoke volumes.

I was surprised—and mostly impressed—by how her fellow MPs and the media responded, even the Daily Mail. BBC correspondent. Chris Mason, in particular, was sensitive in his reporting of such a sensitive situation.

He observed:

“When politicians are dealing with something personal that they don’t want to be probed on … they usually let the press know, so that appropriate considerations can be made. But in this case, no one in the media knew what that personal matter might have been.”

For the most part, we do not like to see people in distress, and our instinct is to reach out and support them. That’s why tears are important—they send a powerful human signal.

When Rachel Reeves was seen in tears in the Commons, it reminded us that beneath the titles and policies are people under real pressure. Her emotion invited not disdain, but empathy.

We live in a culture that discourages visible emotion. Yet tears remain one of the most honest forms of communication we have.

Take Welcome to Wrexham, a show I enjoy (despite its frequent use of the F-word). In a recent episode, academy players are told whether or not they’re being offered a professional contract. The moment is tense. Parents sit beside their sons, invited by the club to support them.

One young lad is told he hasn't made it. He doesn’t burst into tears, but his eyes fill. You can see the fight for composure. It’s a heart-breaking moment—one we share with him and his family. The manager delivering the news clearly feels the weight of the decision, even as he does what he believes is right. The boy’s pain is palpable. No one doubts he is devastated.

And yes, tears are being shed at Anfield too, over the tragic loss of Diogo Jota. Football is full of emotion, and at its most human, it moves us to tears.

Tears are powerful. No other creature cries. They are a natural response to grief, pain, joy, or injustice—and, in biblical terms, they matter.

The Scriptures show that God takes our emotions seriously. Tears are never mocked. They’re not a sign of failure but of truth—an honest reaction when words fall short. As my favourite Dane put it, “Tears are the true language of the soul.”

So the psalmist is reassured: “You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights, each tear entered in your ledger, each ache written in your book.”(Psalm 56:8, the Message)

Remarkably, the God of two billion galaxies notices and remembers our tears. They are not wasted.

This may come as a surprise to some fellow Anglicans, but tears are central to biblical worship. Look at the psalms: so many express lament. Weeping is part of prayer. Tears become our offering to God.

“Hear my prayer, Lord,

listen to my cry for help;

do not be deaf to my weeping.

I dwell with you as a foreigner,

a stranger, as all my ancestors were.”

(Psalm 39:12)

Tears can also mark repentance and return to God. So the prophet Joel urges: “Return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning.” (Joel 2:12)

And more than anyone, Jesus understands our tears. He enters our world—the vale of tears—with deep empathy.

As he approaches Jerusalem, the crowd is cheering. But only Luke notices: “As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it.” (Luke 19:41) His tears are not for himself. They express lament over sin, missed opportunity, and looming judgment. Like Jesus, we too are called to weep in the face of suffering and injustice.

Then there’s the shortest verse in the Bible—so short we often miss its depth:

“Jesus wept.” (John 11:35) At Lazarus’ tomb, Jesus does not deny grief. He enters it. His tears show us that God weeps with us.

But then he calls Lazarus from the grave. Tears, in Scripture, are transitional—they move us toward something new. For Jesus' resurrection changes everything.

So we hold on to the promise of Revelation:

“God will wipe every tear from their eyes.

There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain,

for the old order of things has passed away.”

(Revelation 21:4)

God not only notices our tears—he will one day end the cause of them. That’s the depth of his love.

So yes, if in doubt, burst into tears. In God’s presence, there’s no need for pretence. You don’t need well-chosen words or perfect grammar. Sometimes, tears are the prayer.