"Jesus wept." Three words. When you weep, do you hear an accusation?

Somewhere you learned that tears are a leak in your trust. So you perform composure. You swallow the sob, polish the face, and bring God a report instead of a wreck.

But the Word became flesh — and flesh with tear ducts. The eternal Son took a body that could ache, a larynx that could break, eyes that could flood. He did not merely feel your sorrow from a distance. He entered it with a nervous system. His weeping was not a failure of faith; it was love with a body.

The Jews said, "See how much affection he had for him." They read his tears correctly. Your tears are not an indictment. They are the same language the Son of God spoke. Will you let the enfleshed Word weep with you — and call your grief what he called his?