Not long ago, I read about a museum in West Virginia that holds a collection of tear bottles. During the nineteenth century, women who mourned the loss of a loved one would collect their tears in tiny bottles ornately decorated with silver and pewter. Special stoppers allowed the tears to evaporate. When the tears were gone, the mourning period would end.

      As the Civil War raged between the North and the South, women were said to have cried into tear bottles and saved them until their husbands returned. Their collected tears demonstrated to the men how much they were missed and loved. Never for a moment were these men forgotten.

      Tear bottles have been around for 3000 years. Egypt is the first known culture to have instituted the practice of capturing tears by placing the bottles in the grave of a loved one. It was a way of saying, “I will never forget you.”

      Apparently, King David was familiar with this sentimental gesture, which is why he wrote of God:

You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book (Psalm 34:8, NLT).

      David’s words are not a reference to God’s grief over the death of His loved ones. Rather these words indicate that God is not immune to our grief when we are compelled to say, “Goodbye,” to someone we love.

      One of the unfortunate dynamics of grief is that the first week following the death of someone close to us, people come from all around. They bring food, send condolence cards, and call to check in as to how the bereaved are doing. But after a week, all the previous activity settles down, and those of us who are left to grieve wonder, “Have I been forgotten?”

      Well, if Psalm 34 has anything to say on God’s behalf it is this: not on your life. In fact, I never left. I can count each of the tears you have shed. Not a drop has been missed. I have the bottle to show for it.

       I don’t know where I first heard of this study on pain. Researchers asked a group of individuals to immerse one hand into a bucket of ice water. After several minutes, the stinging pain can become unbearable. However, a second group of participants were asked to immerse one hand into the ice bucket. They caveat is that individuals from the first group were alone as they held their hand under the ice. Individuals from the second group, however, were joined by a companion while their hand was immersed. The results demonstrated that those who knew they weren’t alone while they suffered could hold their hand under the ice water for a significantly longer period than those who believed they were alone.

      I have found this eye-opening revelation to be true amidst my own moments of pain and sorrow. Jesus has never stood back and remained distant from my suffering. As Psalm 139:3 declares, God is “intimately acquainted” in all our affairs.

      The same promise is true for you. If nothing else, Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross demonstrates his willingness to crawl into the darkest parts of your life. He wishes to uphold you in his arms. He wants to whisper comfort to your pain. He is prepared to infuse you with the strength to withstand whatever may come your way. And he will account for every tear you shed.

       Over a century ago, the hymn writer, C. Austin Miles characterized the abiding presence of Jesus with the following words:

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear, falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses…

I stayed in the garden with Him
Though the night all around me is falling
But He bids me go, through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling

And He walks with me
And He talks with me
And He tells me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known