If I could put tears in a bottle....

I went to Brooklyn Tabernacle this morning. It was a little different than I'm used to...

For one thing, people were clapping all throughout the service. Not because they were being irreverent or because they were confused-- but because they were filled with joy.

For another thing-- and probably what struck me the most-- I had no responsibilities, and no one asked me any questions. The only woman who stopped me on the way out just wanted to tell me "God bless you."

It was just what I needed. I got to hear about Jesus and not worry about a typo in the bulletin, not think about who I needed to grab after the service (or who might grab me), or wonder what was going to happen because of some announcement that had just been made that would affect my workload for the upcoming week.

I heard about the prostitute who washed Jesus' feet with her tears. The pastor said something I'd never heard before-- that it wasn't just that she was crying; that wouldn't have been enough tears to wash his feet. But back then they had "tear bottles"-- when women cried, they would capture their tears in a bottle and cork it. They were usually buried with these tear bottles. This prostitute had doubtless been hurt many times. And she brought all that hurt and all that misery and poured it on Jesus' feet, the feet that would soon be pierced for her. For me. God has been reminding me how he is with me in it all, feeling all the pain and confusion and fear-- and he cares deeply for each of those tears.