I’m not an emotional person. At least, I’ve never considered myself an emotional person. Well, not an overly emotional person.
I’ve always prided myself on my ability to control my feelings. When I’m feeling happy, it’s because I allow myself to feel happy. When I’m angry, it’s because I allow myself to be angry… or because someone cut me off in traffic.
But I’m not one to cry. It’s a rare thing to see tears streaming down my face. It’s happened before… Dad passed away… college graduation… saying good-bye to old friends… But these are uncommon occurrences.
It’s been a while since I’ve had one of those soul-wrenching, heart-hurting cries. You know the kind I’m talking about, right? The kind where the tears pour uncontrollably from your eyes. The kind where your sinuses are on overload and, suddenly, breathing through your nose becomes a privilege that you feel you’ll never again take for granted.
I keep thinking there’s something wrong with me. And maybe the problem is that I haven’t had one of those deep, sobbing cries in so long. Because, ladies and gentlemen, I find myself on the verge of tears at the drop of a hat these days.
But maybe that’s not the problem at all. Maybe it isn’t that I’ve been repressing all my emotions for a long stretch of time. Maybe I’m just allowing myself to be moved by the things I see and hear.
I am a Christian. It’s not something I hide here on my blog, but it’s not necessarily something I’m always announcing either. I’m not ashamed of my religious status by any means. It’s just that, this is not a blog that focuses on religion, and so I don’t feel it’s a necessity to bring it up on the regular. This is a blog about my life. And, because I do identify myself as a Christ-follower, the fact of my religious convictions will come up from time to time. Because it is a big part of who I am and what it means to my life.
I find that these “verge of tears” moments keep occurring and they have a common denominator. More often than not, that common denominator is Jesus.
I’ll be in church on Sunday and the worship leader can lead us in a song that I know I’ve sung dozens of times before. Yet, for some reason, my eyes will begin to well up. My lower lip will begin to tremble ever so slightly. I’ll find myself without voice as I continue to try and sing out the lyrics in my feeble attempt to praise God.
Any time there’s a video on Facebook of a man or woman who has been serving overseas in the military and they’re reunited with his or her child, I just about break.
Today, I watched a video illustrating just how quickly children grow up. It was a little depressing to think about how little time a parent actually has with their child before they’re grown and gone. I don’t even have children. Yet I was probably seconds away from wailing. I silently thanked God that the video ended when it did.
I hear someone talking about who Jesus is to them and what kind of effect He has had on their life. Deep down, I feel an amazing sense of joy for that person and the fact that Jesus has changed their life. And it causes me to tear up.
It appears that these “verge of tears” moments are brought on, for the most part, by feelings of joy. More and more, I’m finding myself powerfully moved by instances where God is clearly at work, whether that is in my life or the life of someone near me.
I don’t really mean to complain. I mean, yes, this is a partial complaint. Because why am I, after years of confidently proclaiming that my heart is made of stone, experiencing increased episodes of being so close to crying that I’m not sure I can shut it down?
Look, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a guy crying. I just don’t want to do it in public. Not because I’m ashamed to cry in public. But because I don’t want the people around me to worry that something’s wrong with me. Seriously, guys, nothing’s wrong. I’m not sad. I’m not depressed. I’m just touched by whatever I happen to be experiencing in the moment.
I need one of these “verge of tears” moments to come when I’m sitting at home alone. That way I can just let it go. Open the gates. Let the tears fly. Openly weep. But then, I have to wonder, will that make it better or worse?
If I’m able to have that one, good cry, will I find myself being less affected by singing in church? Or will I be more prone to the tears? Will I just turn on the weekend news and begin sobbing because it’s time for the “Pet Stories” segment where they showcase this week’s cat or dog at the SPCA that’s up for adoption?
How about it, fellow bloggers? Am I broken? Is something wrong in my brain? Should I get a CT scan? Or have I finally just reached a point where the walls have come down and my soul has been revealed?