Holy weeping

I haven't really cried in a few weeks now. The last time was in my kitchen in Carrboro, a few days before I was set to move. I'm not too big on the tear shedding business, unless I'm tired, angry, truly sad, or hormonal. Occasionally truly moving scenes in movies or books will get me as well. Case in point: I ALWAYS cry when Maximus dies in "Gladiator" and when Sarah returns home in "Redeeming Love." But, as a general rule, I rarely water the earth with my own in-house produced salty droplets.

But this morning, I was reading Nehemiah 1, and I started thinking about shedding tears on a different level. In Nehemiah 1, Nehemiah inquires about the fate of his people and hears (1:3) that

"Those who survived the exile and are back in the province are in great trouble and disgrace. The wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates have been burned with fire."

Upon hearing this, Nehemiah's first reaction (1:4) is, "... I sat down and wept. For some days, I mourned and fasted and prayed before the God of heaven."

In other words, Nehemiah sees the brokenness and disarray of his people, and his first reaction is mourning and prayer. He recognizes that things are not as they should be and he weeps. His face gets streaked with tears and dirt and nasty snot, his dignity is gone, he might even have gotten hiccups. His heart breaks for the fate of his people, and that drives him to his knees before God. He recognizes that his people were made for something better, and he weeps out of holy longing for restoration and a deep sadness for their brokenness.

And my question is: What makes our hearts break? Do we weep for the brokenness that we see? Or is our dignity more valuable? Our apathy greater? Our self-centered nature blinding? Our expectation of wholeness insufficient?

Do we weep for brokenness, or just sigh and say, "That's just the way it is"?

God gave us tear ducts for a reason: there is such a thing as holy weeping, holy mourning.