The God Who Weeps

Good Friday Reflection 

Today is Good Friday — the day we pause to remember the pain, sorrow, and sacrifice that came before the celebration of Easter.

We love to talk about Resurrection Sunday. And rightly so — it’s the best news in the world. Death defeated. Hope restored. Redemption made real. But before the empty tomb came the cross. Before the hallelujahs came the heartbreak. Before Sunday came Friday — and all the silence of Saturday. We can’t skip Good Friday and go straight to Easter.  Because the truth is: there is no resurrection without the suffering that came before it.

A Post That Stuck With Me

A few days ago, a friend shared a post on Facebook that’s stayed with me. It said:

"When a mom says, 'I’m losing my mind. I need help,' and the response is, 'You got this,' that’s not support. That’s dismissal. She just told you she’s not okay. She doesn’t need a cheerleader. She needs backup. She’s exhausted, touched out, overwhelmed, and still doing it all. Telling her she’s strong doesn’t lighten the load. Showing up for her does. Hold the baby, bring the food, sit with her while she cries on the kitchen floor. Listen when she says she’s struggling. Believe her. Help her. Don’t wait until she breaks to take it seriously." — Author Unknown

That post stayed with me, because it captured something I see often in my work as a counselor—and in life. So many people are silently struggling, and what they need isn’t a pep talk. What they need is someone who shows up with compassion.

It’s not just about overwhelmed moms—it’s about all of us. It’s about how we often respond to pain with encouragement instead of empathy. How we sometimes rely on spiritual phrases—not because we don’t care, but because sitting with someone in their suffering can be uncomfortable.

What We Really Need When We’re Struggling

When you're down and overwhelmed, you don’t need to hear, “Everything’s going to be okay,” or “God’s got a plan.”

Yes—God is good. Yes—He has a plan. But in those moments of deep sorrow or fear, that’s not always what helps.

What we often need is empathy. We need validation. A shoulder to cry on. Someone to remind us that it’s okay to feel sad, mad, anxious, or overwhelmed. That we’re not failing for feeling the weight of life. That we’re still loved in the valley. Still worthy when we’re weary. Not just when we’re strong, but also when we’re vulnerable and worn out.

Jesus Modeled a Different Kind of Love

That’s the kind of love Jesus modeled.

He didn’t avoid people’s pain. He didn’t rush to fix it or change the subject. He sat with the hurting. He wept. He listened. He reached out and touched people others avoided. He grieved what was broken.

Jesus didn’t offer shallow comfort. He entered suffering willingly—and fully.

As a counselor, this matters deeply to me. It means we don’t have to hide our pain. Jesus understands it. He’s not afraid of it. And He doesn’t ask us to pretend.

For Those Who Are Struggling This Easter

For some, Easter is a time of celebration. But for others, it’s complicated.

Maybe this Easter finds you missing someone you love. Feeling alone even in a room full of people. Struggling with anxiety, depression, trauma, or emotional exhaustion. Trying to hold both joy and grief in the same trembling hands.

If that’s you—I see you. More importantly, Jesus sees you. And He doesn’t ask you to fake it.

You’re not alone. Not on Friday. Not on Saturday. Not even in the long, quiet waiting in between.

Let’s Hold Space for Both

This Easter, let’s celebrate the resurrection. Let’s cling to the hope and healing it brings. But let’s also make room for the sorrow.

Let’s be people who hold space for both.

Because that’s the kind of love that heals.

And that’s the kind of Savior we follow—the God who weeps.

Written by Rebecca Muyres, LPC, CPCS, RPT-S, CCTP, CATP