Tears

I'm not one to cry easily. In fact, under normal circumstances there are only three things that bring me to tears. The first is tax time. The tears are a result of my own frustration and selfishness, thwarted in my own plans and the way I wanted to spend my money by a government that takes it from me. The second thing that conjures up tears is when I think about children around the world in pain. That's just pure sorrow over what they are enduring, mixed with a bit of anger against those inflicting pain on them. Finally, a genuine contemplation of the cross of Christ will produce tears every time. It is a mixture of such joy and sorrow, that sometimes I think I cannot bear the emotion. And then, as the moment passes rapidly, I am left bemoaning the fact that "I still love God so little and sin so much." What do a few tears mean? If taxes and Jesus' death result in the same watery substance issuing from my eyes, then my love for Christ must be measured by more than tears. My tears at tax time accomplish nothing unless they increase my desire to work hard or motivate me to more efficiently manage my finances. Tears for children around the world do little, unless accompanied by a practical love that tangibly reaches out to them. And even sorrowful joy over the cross is ultimately useless, unless it leads me to genuine repentance and life change. Hopefully our cross-centered contemplation this Good Friday leads to transformation, or we must question whether it was truly cross-centered.