Why Weepest Thou?
This was the first utterance of Christ after His resurrection. Of all the things that He might have said, perhaps no more beautiful, blessed, needful, and significant speech could have been made by Him to His sorrowing disciples—and, beyond them, to the struggling, battling Church in all ages, and even to the sinful world itself. Since Christ died and rose again, it may well be asked, why should anyone weep?
The question comes to the penitent, “Why weepest thou?”
Has not Christ died and paid the debt that you owe to an offended God and violated law? If He has, why not burst forth into rejoicing and singing? Claim the heaven-declared proclamation that Jesus has suffered for all, dying for the ungodly, so that none might perish, but that all might have eternal life!
You may be familiar with a character who might well be called “the chronic mourner.” These persons come to the altar at every meeting and at every call. Yet they will not be comforted, seem unable to get relief, and certainly fail to receive the assurance they wish to possess.
In a certain city, lately, I was speaking to one of this class. She was a woman of seventy years of age. When I tried to bring her help and comfort, she contemplated me silently for a few moments, and then said with a melodramatic air, “My brother, I have been a mourner for fifty-two years.”
If she intended to astonish me, she succeeded perfectly. For a full minute I said nothing, as I looked upon this living monument of unbelief, this individual who had persisted in grieving over her sins for a half-century, as though Christ had never died and paid the full obligation she owed to Heaven in regard to the transgressions of her past. I even detected an accent of pride in the statement that she was a mourner of such long standing. She was no ordinary penitent. She had made a science out of spiritual grieving. She had been so satisfied with the words “Blessed are they that mourn” that she refused to come to the other part of the sentence: “they shall be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4) She knew nothing of that. She was a mourner. That is what she called herself, but in the sight of God she was an unbeliever.
How appalling is the condition of those who profess to be penitent, but will not look to Christ for pardon, and in such a fixed mental attitude make His death of none effect. And, strangely, they cannot see how they utterly contradict God’s own Word, as well as discourage many who would otherwise come to Christ and be delivered and blessed.
Again, the words “Why weepest thou?” apply to those who grieve over the presence of inbred sin.
While we do not have to repent over the existence of this principle of sin we were born with, we can lament the fact of its being in us, and should go promptly to Christ for its destruction and removal. Therefore, when we discover this need, if we sit down and sorrow over the dark inheritance and fail to come to Christ with it, we repeat the same folly of the transgressor who will not let the Son of God save him.
Those of us who have gone within the veil, having exercised the distinct faith for heart-cleansing, the sanctification of the soul, are simply astounded and burdened for those who spend days and weeks of protracted mourning and seeking without obtaining the blessing God has provided. The blood of Christ has been shed outside the gate to sanctify the people—why weepest thou? Let us go forth at once to Him without the camp, bearing His reproach, and obtain the unspeakable grace.
We once saw a woman receive the blessing of heart-cleansing after a most faithful seeking for it for a few hours. She had to leave the meeting that night at ten o’clock on the streetcars in company with a lady friend, who was yet at the altar, still weeping and grieving without securing what she desired. The woman who had prayed through was fairly electrified with her new possession, and, with the way into the Holiest being all plain to her now, she bent over her weeping friend and exclaimed, while laughing and crying over her and clapping her on the shoulders, “Jennie, darling, make haste and get the blessing; the train will be here in fifteen minutes.”
Quite a number of workers around the altar smiled at the speech, but others saw deeper into the words, and to them it was a paraphrase of what Christ had long ago uttered: “Why weepest thou?”
When Christians refuse to thus cast themselves on the atoning Sacrifice, it can readily be seen how they hinder the faith of others who are not spiritually strong to begin with, or who are looking to them for leadership. We have seen the slowness of a preacher in obtaining sanctification turn the entire congregation back. Their eyes were on him as a kind of example, and as he did not press through into the Holiest, they reasoned very naturally that there would be no need for them to try, as there was little hope that they could obtain what the preacher had not. Oh, that all seekers in pulpit and pew would look to Calvary, and behold the blood which cleanseth from all sin! Oh, that the voice of Christ could be heard by these sad, discouraged followers of His, whose highest conception of the Son of God in redemption is merely suppressing the carnal mind, keeping the Old Man in some manner of subjection!
“Why weepest thou?” Is Christ not able to do exceeding abundantly for you above all that you can ask or think? Did He not say, “All things are possible to him that believeth,” (Mark 9:23) and, “According to your faith be it unto you” (Matthew 9:29)?
Still again the words apply to the bereaved.
How perfectly helpless all of us have been made to feel in a place and at an hour when Death has entered and taken away the light of the home! At such a time we feel the vanity of human consolation, the nothingness of human strength.
Once as a pastor we stood in the midst of a family who were grouped around the deathbed of a lovely daughter just grown, and now breathing her last. We shall never forget the affecting silence of those moments. No one spoke, but tears fell swiftly down every face. Each tired, heavy sigh from the pillow was feared to be the last breath. When finally the physician said quietly, “It is all over,” I immediately called all to their knees around the bed, and in the midst of choking sobs, commended the grief-stricken family to Him who once died Himself and rose again, and who said that at His voice all that are in their graves shall come forth into everlasting life.
Mary in tears at the Savior’s tomb is a picture which appeals to every heart. Here was an emotion, a burden, a sorrow known to us all. Then comes the footfall of Christ. His eye rests on the drooping figure, and His loving voice falls upon her ear, “Woman, why weepest thou?” (John 20:15)
How quickly the tear-stained face was raised; how it flashed and glowed with joy, we all can easily imagine, when in another moment, with an additional word from His lips, she saw it was Jesus. He had broken the bands of Death. The grave could not hold Him. He had come back to tell the grieving world of His victory, and that as He had raised Himself from the tomb, even so He would resurrect all who believe on Him.
Since that marvelous and blessed return, and since the words, “I am the resurrection and the life,” (John 11:25) how can there be inconsolable sorrow at the side of the deathbed, and by the border of the grave?
“Thy brother shall rise again,” (John 11:23) said the Savior to the sisters of Bethany. And we have only to change the word brother to father, mother, husband, wife, sister, son, or daughter, to make them sound like sweetest music to every grieving, bereaved heart around the world. No wonder He said, “Why weepest thou?” “Wherefore comfort one another with these words.” (1 Thessalonians 4:18)
These words apply as well to the heart and life which has been wounded and injured by human tongues and influence.
Not only opposition and persecution have come, but lower, sadder still, misrepresentation, detraction, and slander are hurled like javelins and boomerangs at the servant of God. No office or position, nor even religious experience or life of usefulness, is sufficient to shield one from receiving such an attack.
The added pain is that oftentimes the blow is struck, not by a worldly hand, but by one who went with you to the house of God in company (Psalm 55:12-14). We have seen some gentle Christian natures sink, completely crushed, under this peculiar form of malice.
Still we say, “Why weepest thou?” Why should we grieve hopelessly as though some strange thing had happened? Was not Christ slandered? Were not His disciples vilified? Have not many of His most effective ministers throughout the ages suffered reproaches and accusations? And are we to expect better treatment than they received?
Paul said, “None of these things move me.” (Acts 20:24) We should say the same, and go right on in God’s service, “By the word of truth, by the power of God, by the armour of righteousness on the right hand and on the left.” (2 Corinthians 6:7)
As for general misrepresentation, many are the revival-meetings in which the true evangelist attends the funeral and burial of various kinds of false reports. We have nothing to do but discharge our duty, and “wait on the Lord.” (Proverbs 20:22) “Delight thyself also in the Lord…. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday.” (Psalm 37:4-6)
How many Christians worry needlessly in regard to these things! Some workers at times feel half-paralyzed, heartsick, and tempted to give up their labor for Christ and souls. My advice to them is to hold on, hold in, hold up, and hold out.
If a lie is told upon you, make no answer, but wait on the Lord and be of good courage. If a misrepresentation is circulated about your work, methods, family, or Christian life, and a thick door seems to be shut and locked in your face, do not think of opening it yourself. Do not lose time and energy in trying to pry it off its hinges or blow it up with dynamite. Wait on the Lord, weep not, be patient, and suddenly it will open—and God will do the opening.
Your coat may be bespattered with the mud of human hate, detraction, or misconception. Do not try to wipe it off at once, says Mr. Spurgeon, for that will simply smear it and make matters worse. Be patient and let it dry, he says; by and by it will drop off of itself.
God will take care of the mud-flinger, the mud-flinging, the mud, and especially the coat and the man flung at. He, with His own touch, will brush off the mire, and show that it did not come from a fall of the man, but was cast upon him by the hand of an enemy. “Wait, I say, on the Lord.” (Psalm 27:14)
Has not Christ promised deliverance to us from this and every other evil? Does not the Bible say that all things work together for good to them that love God? Then, “Why weepest thou?”
We may be chosen to undergo some of the most agonizing moments known to man. Our circumstances may wring from us tears and sighs that no other human heart comprehends. Or we may find that the petty grievances of everyday life add up to a weight that seems heavy indeed to bear. But know that even the smallest distress is noticed by the One who keeps count of the hairs on our head. Each pang of trouble is written in His book, and we may rejoice that, by His divine accounting plan, every affliction is being converted to a currency of eternal glory at an exchange rate unheard of by mortal man (Psalm 56:8; 2 Corinthians 4:17).
And though our eyes be opened to see beyond the need that we find within and among those around—even if it were revealed to us to see the full depths of human despair, though we begin to perceive the magnitude of the yawning chasm that separates mankind from any hope of recovery, and though our heart be stirred to weep its utmost—look again, and look higher. “Why weepest thou?” For above all that can come against us, there is an Answer to the question, an Answer more than sufficient, and just waiting to be realized: “Weep not: behold, the Lion of the tribe of Juda, the Root of David, hath prevailed.” (Revelation 5:5)