Joni Eareckson Tada: Sharing Hope

Shana: I'm Shana, with Joni Eareckson Tada sharing hope. Thanks for listening today.

Joni Eareckson Tada: As a quadriplegic, there are many things I can't do for myself: carry groceries, reach for stuff in a cupboard, fold towels, and the list continues. But please don't get me wrong. I enjoy borrowing someone else's hands to help me with things. Really, I do. In fact, in a fun way, I've got this friend who loves folding sheets and pillowcases just so. It's like my linen cupboard is stacked with works of art.

That is all well and good, but I want you to know that I don't enjoy borrowing people's hands to help me cry. Obviously, I cannot wipe my eyes, and I have a hard time asking others to even be around me when I'm weeping.

Now, there was a time when I had more than enough strength in my right arm. If I were about to cry over something sad, I'd ask my sister or Ken Tada to stuff a wad of Kleenex into the handcuff of my arm splint. That way, I could wheel off by myself and have a good cry.

Back then, I could easily press my damp eyes against the wad of tissue shoved into my hand splint. You may not be a quadriplegic, but I bet you understand. I'm guessing that when you cry, you feel a need to get away by yourself.

When sorrow overtakes us, we've got this instinct, as it were, to withdraw because tears expose us. They reveal to others those tender places inside of us that are so vulnerable. It's why, I think, we shield our helplessness, sometimes even from people who are closest to us.

When we weep, this desire to get away and be private is not a sign of weakness. It's how God wired us. But remember my arm with the handcuff and the tissues, the cuff into which I could stuff Kleenex? I cannot do even that anymore. As I've gotten older, my right arm has lost so much strength.

I just can't raise my handcuff to reach my eye. So when I feel a need to cry now, it makes it harder to get alone and be private. I now must borrow the hands of others when I have to wipe tears off my face or blow my runny nose.

At first, I have to admit, it was hard. But then I realized this is Providence. It's the providence of God. Even this is part of God's good plan for me. To require others to wipe my nose and wet face is a spiritually healthy thing to be that vulnerable.

To be that exposed, to reveal those tender places in my heart that I cannot hide, is to the advantage of my soul to be that transparent before God and before other believers because it fosters humility—a healthy humility that we all need as Christians.

Tears are a beautiful thing. It is good to welcome believers into our sorrow, and my paralysis has taught me that. One day soon, in Isaiah 65, God promises us. He says, "See, I will create new heavens and a new earth. The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I will create. For I will create Jerusalem to be a delight and its people a joy.

"I will rejoice and take delight in my people. The sound of weeping and of crying will be heard in it no more." How awesome to think that God rejoices over us and takes delight in us. Jesus is most likely looking more forward to that day than even we are.

If you have been crying from grief or pain, this is good news. It's the kind of hope I sure love sharing here at joniradio.org.