I know of a man who endured a great tragedy in his life. And, year after year, he has simply not been able to forget about the hurt. He is still in grief. Now a person who is grieving is often capable of times of happiness and playfulness. He is able to act normal most of the time. He’s fine. It’s not like he is debilitated. But, every time that the particular tragedy is mentioned, every time a sound or a smell reminds him, he chokes up with tears. And, this is not one of those modern feminine and sensitive men who consider it some sort of virtue to be able to cry every time they think of Bambi or Old Yeller. He is a man like your father. He keeps his composure. He is strong. But, even still, there is something that, for him, is still very close to the surface, still very tender, and he cannot avoid the tears. Now, I don’t know if you ever saw your dad cry for sadness or his voice crack, but if you ever did, you knew that thing that made him cry was terribly sad indeed, that there was some deep anguish in his heart. Some of you can barely think of your dad crying without crying yourself simply because that’s how sad a thing would be.
You might know that kind of sadness yourself. It is always there, but usually hidden. Perhaps no one else knows about it. But, it’s close to the surface. When a certain hymn comes up or certain smells comes out of the oven, you just can’t hold it together. It doesn’t matter if it’s been three years or 10 or 20. That’s the way this man is I’m talking about.
You might be surprised to learn that you all know this man. The man’s name is Jesus Christ. The Lord Jesus mourns. He always has. On three different occasions we are told that Jesus wept. The first is at the death of Lazarus and the final time in the Garden of Gethsemane. In the Gospel for the 10th Sunday after Trinity, Jesus weeps at the sight of Jerusalem. The Greek means more than that He merely wept, but it includes sobbing and cries. Perhaps a better word is “He lamented over it.” He suffered a deep inward anguish. And will you note that Jesus’ tears come at a time when He you might have expected joy. It’s Palm Sunday. He is riding into His city and the people are over-joyed, singing and waving palm branches. And yet, in the midst of hosannas and palms, the Savior stopped to weep. It must have even been awkward, so out of place. You know that must be some deep grief.
Now, what is this grief, so tender, so delicate? You might think that Jesus is beginning to dread His oncoming sacrifice. He knows He will die for sin outside the gates of this very city, that His payment for sin will not be easy or light. Maybe He is already grieving the very prospect of it. Maybe He is afraid. You and I would be. We are terrified of death. We would be thinking of ourselves. I know you say, “I’m not afraid of death. I’m know I’m going to Heaven.” But, I don’t believe you. What is that feeling in your chest when you lose control of the car on an ice patch? You’re not afraid of getting hurt or of having to go the hospital. You’re afraid of dying.
But, not Jesus. Not here anyway. There is not even a trace of that kind of self-concern. In all that flood of tears, there was not one for His own death. The tears are for Jerusalem. He would say later “Daughters of Jerusalem, don’t weep for me, but for yourselves and for your children.” It is not, “Woe is me, look what I have go do.” It is “Oh, if you had known, even you, especially on this your day.” He grieves for others, not for himself.
Dear saints, learn from Our Lord’s tears to know your Savior aright. He longs to be known by you and to avert your destruction. Some think that the satisfaction for guilt is no big thing, but if it’s no big thing, then where are these tears coming from? Some take their soul’s salvation lightly, but their Savior doesn’t. See his tears. Some consider their situation and their pain, and they think God is distant and unconcerned. How can that be, after you’ve noticed the deep lamenting of Jesus over the souls of men.
Don’t make a mistake, though. It is not as though He’s a pushover, like a doting mother who can’t stand to discipline her children so she just doesn’t. He weeps with genuine tenderness, but His tears are not enough to satisfy His wrath.
The next day, He will walk into church, whip in His hand, and drive out the money-changers, tuning over tables, scattering coins all over the place, and screaming, “My house is a house of prayer… Get out of here!” Sorry if all you know about Jesus is that He was nice to children and considerate of lilies. Before He is forgiving of us, He is angry with us. When it comes to sin, God has a temper. And, it is not some accident of history, some random violence, when the entire city of unbelieving Jerusalem is leveled to the ground in 70 AD, when some 1,000,000 Jews are dashed to ground for rejecting the visitation of their Messiah. The wrath of God is not some quiescent attribute off in the distance, something confined to theology books. The wrath of God is real and manifests itself in history. The judgment of God on sin is no trifling matter. Look what He brought on Jerusalem in 70AD, to say nothing of the eternal judgment on the soul which rejects Him.
But do not think, for this reason, that God is an unfeeling and merciless brute… that He likes this. If you would like to know what He thinks of His Jerusalem, if you would like to know with what tender devotion he longs for you, learn this from His tears.
Every once in a while a parent will stand above their tearful, wailing child and utter these heartless words, “Well what good is crying going to do?” Hey, give the kid a break. He’s not trying fix anything with his tears, he’s crying because he’s sad. Jesus isn’t trying to fix anything by crying, not trying to teach you a lesson or cajole you into making some decision. He is crying because in the mystery and weakness of His human nature, He is sad.
And, in this sadness, Jesus reveals the very heart of God for sinners. This is what the Father means when He says, “I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live.” He reminds me of a judge whose best friend in the world is brought before him accused, and after much pleading and warning and persuading with the prisoner, at last has the unimaginable pain of condemning him. But, though his sentence is firm, nevertheless, the judge cannot even speak the dreadful words without terrible breaking down in tears.
There is a very practical lesson you can learn about the weeping of Jesus over Jerusalem. It should move you to trust in Him. Approach Him without hesitation. Don’t be afraid. Repent of your sins and be forgiven. He is not eager to see you punished. He is eager to see you safe, gathered under His wings.
Take comfort in the tears that Jesus sheds. Take even greater comfort in the blood that He sheds, not drops from his eyes alone, but from his whole body and even from his very heart. He did not pay for your soul on the road into Jerusalem, but on the road out of it. The dust and the sweat of Calvary, His suffering and death, these are the things that make for your peace.
So, will you remember Jerusalem and repent. Jerusalem’s hour of visitation is passed. But, not yours. Now is the hour of your visitation. It is true that your sins are many and they are frequent. Your flesh is weak. You follow your stomach or your groin. If you look back at your life and think, “How could I have been so foolish,” think how much more obvious it has been to God all along. You can’t hide in the dark or run from Him. Jesus has seen you. He has wept over your choices and your clumsiness. He has wept over you and sweated and bled for you. Even still, He wants you. He loves you. His body and blood will gather you safely to Himself. Cast your burden on the Lord. He will sustain you. Let go of your regrets. He loves you. He bears no grudge, no ill will, no regrets. He was glad to pay the price to make you His. You are worth it to Him. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Tags: trinity
