"Seeing Through the Tears"

Not too long ago, while speaking at a Guidelight Disability Retreat, I was approached by a young mother who was struggling with the severe disability of her son.

I had just spoken about the promise of the resurrection and the hope of a glorified new body from Philippians 3:20-21—a hope that we all look forward to, but perhaps one that those walking through the valley of disability cling to more deeply. It is a resurrection of broken bodies, broken hearts, broken dreams, and a broken world, all restored in the promise and presence of Christ.

When this young mother approached me, I instantly recognized that familiar look on her face. I’ve seen it countless times before, not just on strangers, but even in the mirror. It’s the look of desperation, a mix of hopelessness and exhaustion, all wrapped up in despair. She looked at me and said, ‘I understand what you’re saying, but I’m drowning. I’m at my wits’ end. I want to believe it, but I can’t see it through all the tears.’

Her words reminded me why we preach the gospel at these retreats. The gospel that says, "Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden, and I (Jesus) will give you rest."

Her words also reminded me of the story of another woman—a woman who was desperate, hopeless, exhausted, and at her wits’ end. She wanted to believe, but she couldn’t see Jesus, until she saw the resurrection through her tears.

"But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body." 

 I’m thinking of Mary Magdalene, one of the three Marys who followed Jesus. This was the Mary who was freed from seven demons, the Mary who was changed by Christ, the Mary who couldn’t sleep because Jesus had been crucified, the Mary who woke up early, before daylight, and went to the tomb. 

She was the first to arrive, the first to see, the first to experience the resurrected Christ, and the first to be told to go and spread the news.

Many sermons talk about the race between Peter and John to get to the tomb. A race that John, “The Disciple whom Jesus loved,” won—by his own account, in John 20:4. John was the first to arrive, Peter the first to go inside, but Mary had been there long before either of them. It was Mary who woke them up and informed them that the grave was empty.

And it was Mary who stayed when Peter and John went back home.

“Then the disciples went back to their homes. But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept, she stooped to look inside.” (John 20:10-11)

Notice the contrast. The disciples went back home, but Mary stood. 

She stayed.

In times of desperation, sometimes the most spiritual thing we can do is stay where we are, be still, look around, listen, and wait to see the Lord. Even if we are trying to see through tears. 

And what did Mary see through her tears?

First, she saw an empty grave. This was a reminder of what Jesus had told the others, and her, “From that time on Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things…and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” But standing at the empty grave, she didn’t quite understand. She couldn’t see clearly through the tears.

Next, she saw angels, sitting where the body of her Lord had lain. They asked her why she was weeping. Mary’s reply reflected her deep love for Jesus, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” In Luke’s account, the angels ask, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but He has risen.” But Mary couldn’t see it just yet. She couldn’t see clearly through the tears.

Then she saw a gardener. And Mary’s desperate plea continued through tears, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him.” I'm not sure if Jesus was disguised in some way, or perhaps His glorified, resurrected body was very different from His earthly form. Or maybe Mary simply couldn’t recognize Him through her tears.

"Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but He has risen."

 But just then, the tears that had blurred everything finally became the tears that magnified the only thing.

“Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’”

And it was in that moment, through her tears, that she recognized Him. 

He appeared to a desperate Mary just as gently as He would appear to a doubting Thomas. "Then He said to Thomas, 'Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe."

"In times of desperation, sometimes the most spiritual thing we can do is stay where we are, be still, look around, listen, and wait to see the Lord—even if we are trying to see through the tears."

Now, back to that desperate mother—or maybe the countless despairing parents longing for the resurrected bodies of their children, racked with disabilities. Or perhaps back to you. Are you standing at the grave? Are you looking inside at the empty tomb wondering if the resurrection is true or not? Have you left, shaking your head, unable to find the hope you long for?

In the midst of our sorrow and exhaustion, when we can’t see past our pain, it is in those moments of deep despair that Jesus calls us by name. He knows our tears, He sees our brokenness, He knows how we are formed, He remembers that we are dust, and He meets us where we are. He meets us, not with condemnation for our doubts, but with the gentle invitation to see Him clearly, even through the tears.

When all seems lost, and we are overwhelmed by grief and despair, the resurrection is still the greatest hope we can cling to. Through the tears, we will one day see the fullness of His glory—our broken bodies, our broken dreams, our broken hearts, and our broken world restored in the radiant light of His love and grace. 

And in that day, all our tears will be wiped away.