Better than a Hallelujah

I love listening to the lyrics of songs and seeing how they tie into my life.  It always amazes me when I can hear a song and think that the artist must be singing directly to me.  Music is such a wonderful way to connect to others.  Every now and then when I’m in my car, I hear the song “Better than a Hallelujah” by Amy Grant.  The lyrics to this song have always been beautiful, but now that I’m working as a chaplain, they carry a new meaning for me.  For those of you who haven’t heard this song, here are the lyrics:

God loves a lullaby
In a mother’s tears in the dead of night
Better than a hallelujah sometimes.
God loves a drunkards cry,
The soldiers plea not to let him die
Better than a hallelujah sometimes.

The woman holding on for life,
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a hallelujah sometimes
The tears of shame for what's been done,
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a hallelujah sometimes.

Better than a church bell ringing,
Better than a choir singing out.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a hallelujah.

I think about how many people I see every day, particularly family members who are there with a patient, become frustrated with their own tears.  They say, “I’m sorry that I’m crying” or “I’m trying to be strong for him and then I’ll get the tears out later” or “She has enough things going on right now, she doesn’t need to be worrying about me being upset, too.”  These statements break my heart.  Why is it that tears have such a negative connotation?  I think one answer is our society: we are pushed to be strong, fearless, almost robotic in our actions and that crying is weak, feminine, and even embarrassing.  Men, especially, are told to man up, be strong, and not to show their emotions.  How did tears, sorrow and emotions get such a bad rap??  The honest cries of breaking hearts are better than a hallelujah.

Here are some things I say/do when someone at the bedside apologizes for crying:  Sometimes I say, “You don’t need to apologize…tears are a very normal reaction to what’s going on.”  Sometimes I turn their own words back on them and have them ponder whether tears are really showing weakness or if they actually show honesty, vulnerability and love toward the patient.  I have told people who are mourning the sudden loss of a loved one, “Your tears are precious to God.”  When a loved one dies and a family member ponders about their tears, I sometimes tell them something one of my friends from seminary taught me: “We only grieve those things we truly love.”  The answer that drives me crazy is when friends, families and sometimes strangers say to those who are mourning, “This was God’s will, you can’t question it” or “God won’t give you more than you can handle, so don’t cry.”  I really wrestle theologically with this mindset.  When I see a child lying brain dead in the PICU, an adult diagnosed with an aggressively spreading cancer, or parents be told their baby did not live through childbirth, I know God is right there in our crying and our mourning, in our silence and our suffering.  The silence when the words won’t come is better than a hallelujah.

I imagine that a mother who has lost a child, a person who feels isolated and trapped in a substance abuse problem, or a soldier who has watched his fellow soldier die before his/her eyes would find a deep connection with this song.  We pour out our miseries and God just hears a melody.  I think it gives permission for the person to grieve when the rest of the world says, “Enough already.”  Tears do not show weakness nor do they move us farther away from God.  Rather, I believe in our deepest sorrows and tears, God is right there is the moment.  I even believe God feels sorrow with us and weeps with us in the unexplainable tragedies in life.  The weeping, the wailing, and the shouts to God saying, How could you let this happen?? are more precious than a hallelujah.  So if you’re mourning, don’t let others stifle your tears, tell you weeping shows weakness, or try to pull you out of the hell you’re in.  Let the tears fall; let the silence of unanswered questions be heard; and let the world know that sometimes our lives suddenly crash in on us…and even God weeps for that.

How beautiful the mess we are.