When Grown Men Cry

I once watched a man crying on a porch. I didn't so much watch him, per se, but I got a startlingly sense of what was happening, and I quickly darted away as not to interfere, watching the scene over and over in my head as I made my exit. I imagined all the things that might have happened to lead to his breakdown, I imagined his slow recovery, and his re-entrance into his house. I had hoped that it was over something completely trivial, like the final episode of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, but I knew in my heart that it must have been something truly troubling.

Today I witnessed a similar incident. I saw a man become embarrased and leave a room crying. I hate this. My heart hurts badly for him, and somehow I just want the scene to go away. In my sin I want to comfort him enough to extinguish the fire without leaving any smoke. Because I didn't know him, or the man on the porch, I did nothing. I don't know how to love them, but I understand that love is what they need.

I am studying at a great seminary, where I will gain a great bit of knowledge. What excites me more than anything is that anything I learn academically is only secondary to figuring out how to love the guy on the porch. I don't know alot, but I know that when someone shows love to my wife she shows a smile so big it nearly falls off her face.

I was blessed to witness the reconciliation of the man today to those to whom he was embarrassed. There were hugs, a wiping away of tears, and a continuation of some small talk about the weather. At seminary we can't avoid encountering the gospel every single day, whether it be studying a certain passage in its historical context, or learning about why someone can show abundant love when grown men cry.