Fears for Tears

At Gainsborough’s Old Hall, a number of peculiar, teardrop-shaped marks are found on the wooden walls, as though they have been burned on. I have seen them before in other ancient houses, but never gave a second moment’s thought. The info at Gainsborough suggests that they were deliberately made by medieval and early-modern folk by holding a taper or candle to a surface and painstakingly shaping the burn. The usual reason is trotted out, that of warding off evil spirits, house fires, witches and the devil himself. Although this seems foolish even to those of us who believe in Satan and his cronies, people centuries ago were certainly superstitious, and terrified of evil. Yet if such ill-favoured beings could be dissuaded from meddling in the house’s affairs by so simple a procedure, we would find them on every wall in Christendom. I suspect that these markings speak more of their creators’ fears than their supposed targets' weaknesses. Yet the tear shape is remarkable. Crying is an activity linked to vulnerability, hopelessness, and helplessness. Many times do the psalmists record their weeping and sobbing, in their frustration and sorrow:

Thou hast counted my wanderings; put my tears into thy bottle; are they not in thy register? Psalm 56:8

Mine tears have been my meat day and night, while they daily say unto me, Where is thy God? Psalm 42:3

I fainted in my mourning: I cause my bed every night to swim, and water my couch with my tears. Psalm 6:6 (all Geneva Bible)

God does not always prevent the situations which cause our tears, but He does see them, and act. He speaks to us more clearly through pain than sorrow, and the Spirit’s convicting work is more often done through the night of sadness than the morning of joy. God is invisible, yet I sometimes think that we perceive Him better through our tears than when our eyes are dry and all is well.