We’re all sufferers. Few experiences are universal across all human experience, but suffering is one of them. Every person reading this knows something of the sadness of our fallen world, the sadness of sin and its effects: chronic pain, terminal illness, divorce, abuse, underemployment, wayward children, infertility, miscarriage, betrayal, rejection, and loss.

But though grief meets us at every turn, we spend much of our time and money trying to ignore it. The global market for entertainment is north of $2.5 trillion, and it continues to climb. Much of that revenue ($660 billion) comes from the United States. It’s evident that—particularly in the West—we thrive off distraction, entertainment, and escapism. Rather than grappling with life’s hardships, many do all they can to avoid feeling altogether.

Jesus’s pronouncement in the second beatitude stands in surprising contrast to our tendency: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matt. 5:4). For the believer, there’s blessing to be found even in our tears, a blessing that invites us to reevaluate our understanding of sorrow.

Jesus’s words are entirely countercultural—and counterintuitive—so it’s important to let the surprise of his beatitude sink in. Jesus tells us it’s safe to be sad. We don’t need to numb ourselves to sorrow, nor do we need to be happy as the world defines it. Rather, if we embrace godly grief, it’ll come with godly comfort; in this life, God will use our tears for good, and in the next, he’ll wipe our tears for good.

Tears Are Sanctifying

Scripture teaches us that Christian tears are infused with God’s grace. God’s promise of comfort and blessing applies not only after the weeping but even in the weeping.

For the believer, there’s blessing to be found even in tears, a blessing that invites us to reevaluate our understanding of sorrow.

As we weep, the salt in our tears reminds us of sin’s bitterness. When we weep over our own sin, it’s a sign that God is growing us in godliness; we’re beginning to hate what he hates and love what he loves. “Those who mourn” are those who have come to the end of themselves and who look for hope and salvation in God alone.

The Bible describes unbelief in terms of hardness of heart (e.g., Prov. 28:13–14; Heb. 3:7–8, 12), but the one whose heart is sensitive to the heinousness of sin evidences a work of God’s saving grace. “For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret” (2 Cor. 7:10). No wonder Thomas Watson once said that tears are never put to better use than when they’re shed over sin.

Spiritual mourning is also a grace from God in that it brings us closer to his Son—the One who saves us from sin and the One who weeps with us in our sorrow (John 11:35). Jesus didn’t come as a stoic solution to the problem of sin and evil. He wasn’t a cold pharmaceutical for the disease of the human condition. Far from it. He came to “sympathize with our weaknesses” (Heb. 4:15). He saves us from our suffering by suffering for us and with us. Spiritual mourning helps us see that truth.

So we can’t grow closer to Christ by stopping our ears or closing our eyes to the sufferings of this life. Endless entertainment can’t draw us closer to Jesus. Tears can, though.

When we weep over the world’s brokenness, sin’s effects, and the suffering of God’s people, we experience a deeper fellowship with our Lord. It’s one of the ways we “share,” or “fellowship,” in Christ’s sufferings (Phil. 3:10). Truly, when Christians suffer in this life, we do so not only for Jesus or because of Jesus but with Jesus (Rom. 8:17). Blessed are those who mourn, for they have a deeper relationship with their Savior, the “man of sorrows” (Isa. 53:3).

Tears Are Temporary

But the ultimate blessing Jesus speaks of here is one held out as a future certainty: “They shall be comforted.” Each and every sigh due to suffering will be answered by our Lord.

David writes, “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?” (Ps. 56:8). What powerful imagery. God is aware of every one of our tears and is determined to something about them. They’re in his book, after all. They’ve made it onto a divine to-do list.

Though we may not be vindicated from every wrong in this life, the promise is one day all will be made right. There will be no loose threads. No unanswered troubles. No wounds left unattended. No tears that aren’t wiped away.

In the life to come, we’ll truly discover that God is the “God of all comfort” (2 Cor. 1:3). He’s not the God of little comfort, not some, much, or even most comfort, but the God of every comfort imaginable. As Charles Spurgeon says, “No matter what you may require to bear you up under your affliction, God hath just the kind of comfort which you need, and he is ready to bestow it upon you.” Even if you should require all the comfort, help, and joy ever given to all mankind in their affliction, God would have that—and plenty more—to give you.

Endless entertainment can’t draw us closer to Jesus. Tears can, though.

Indeed, he has enough comfort to not just soothe sorrows but end them. Parents of young children are called to comfort nearly every day. Whether it’s scraped knees or hurt feelings, we gather our crying child into our arms and say, “There, there. It’ll be OK. Stop your crying. I’ve got you.” And it works! The comfort of a parent is a potent balm for a kid’s sadness.

But what will happen tomorrow? More tears will require more comfort. And on and on it’ll go. But when Jesus says, in the new heavens and the new earth, “Stop your crying,” crying will actually stop forever. He who can stop wind and waves can stop weeping too.

Dear believer, when tears come (and they will), don’t despair. Jesus has assured us it’s safe to be sad. He’ll use our mourning now for his good purposes as he simultaneously fixes our watering eyes on a world with no mourning, crying, or pain anymore (Rev. 21:4). Remember, our hope was never in a tearless life but rather in a tearless eternity.