Like the “great sorrow and unceasing anguish” he expressed in Romans 9:2 over his Jewish kinsmen who had wholly rejected their Messiah, Paul wept over these self-professed Christians who had rejected the very core of the gospel and made themselves “enemies of the cross of Christ” (Philippians 3:18). He shed real tears over the “destruction” they would face if they failed to repent (Philippians 3:19). Paul exhibited a rare combination of boldness in his defense of the gospel and brokenheartedness over those who opposed him.

A number of years ago, as I was memorizing my way through the book of Philippians (don’t be overly impressed, you can do it too), I would frequently feel conviction when I came to these verses:

Many, of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things. (Philippians 3:18–19)

The convicting part was this: “I . . . now tell you even with tears.” Paul’s tears over those who had become “enemies” of the gospel, and over the “end” they would suffer, were telling. They were telling something about Paul’s heart and, I believe, something about mine.

What Tears Tell

Tears can be telling (I’m speaking here of real tears, not fake ones). Tears can tell you what you love, what you regret, what you desire, what you miss. Tears tell you what you consider glorious or hideous. And, of course, tears tell you what breaks your heart.

A lack of (real) tears is also telling. Dry eyes can indicate a deficit of love, or regret, or desire. They can indicate a lack of appreciation for what is glorious and a lack of abhorrence for what is hideous. And they can indicate a heart unwilling to break in the face of heartbreaking realities.

Then again, the stories tears tell are rarely simple, because we are not simple. Tears can be affected by our bodily constitutions — we can be more or less prone to tears based on our internal “wiring.” Tears can be affected by our social experiences — we learn to shed or repress tears by what our families and formative cultures encourage or discourage. Tears can be affected by our traumatic experiences — ways we learn to cope with overwhelming pain, grief, or horror can cause sorrow and anguish to manifest in complex and even distorted ways.

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