I was meditating on this passage this morning. Specifically, I was captivated by the command to “weep no more”. The passage isn’t just talking about the intense emotion knit to weeping. It includes all the different degrees of sadness. In essence, the passage is saying, “Be sad no more.” Why was John weeping? Why was he sad? In this particular example, John was more than just sad. He was hysterical. He was on his knees, sobbing, blubbering hysterical. What could cause such a strong apostle, who had successfully endured jail, beatings, isolation, and excommunication, to suddenly lose it? John was so upset because no one was able to open the scroll.

The scroll symbolizes the ultimate plan to fix. Fix what? Everything. It is the blueprint for restoration. Every tragedy mended, every injustice undone, every wickedness removed, every wound healed, every confusion cleared, and every tear wiped away. Why do we humans weep? In the moment of weeping our hearts sink fast into a blur of darkness. It is overwhelming. The death of a loved one, losing a job, failing a test, a break up, being scorned, belittled, abused… we weep loudly, as John did, because we see no remedy, no alternative. The wall is too high, the damage too vast, the chasm too deep, the heart too complicated to mend. No one can open this impossible scroll. Not our parents, our government, our doctors, lawyers, shrinks, superman. Then suddenly, from Heaven, a resounding command breaks through. It is as uncompromisable as “do not murder” and “do not steal”. A beautiful, divine decree issued directly from the King’s throne room for everyone who belongs to Him:

Weep no more.

Jesus can open the scroll. The Lion of the tribe of Judah! The root of David! He will do it. Jesus is our blessed hope, and this hope will not fail. He will fix it all. Every last bit of it. The heart of God wants us to dry those tears. Get up off the ground. Don’t waste another ounce of energy on being sad. There is, quite literally, not a single reason to feel down anymore. Weeping is obsolete. It’s an ancient mechanism no longer needed. Sadness has expired. “Weep no more” is not an whimsical opinion. It is a liberating invitation to walk in the reality of Jesus’ triumph. One day, very soon, the fingers of our Lover will gladly rip the binding seals and dance across the smooth surface of the scroll that reads our restoration. Weep no more. We have good news: Jesus can open the scroll.

As I watched Joseph on the internet, I recalled how, a year ago, I paced not 30 feet from where he was singing, pleading with God to bring him to IHOP. I recalled how impossible that prayer felt at the time. How it hurt to even ask, because it was too dear to me and seemed too dangerous of a hope for my heart to dream to handle lest it never come to pass. But there he was… singing. Fairing better in the internship than I ever did. The moment resounded an age-old truth ever so clearly: God answers prayers.

“If I firmly believed, as millions say they do, that the knowledge and practice of religion in this life influences destiny in another, then religion would mean to me everything. I would cast away earthly enjoyments as dross, earthly cares as follies, and earthly thoughts and feelings and vanity. Religion would be my first waking thought and my last image before sleep sank me into unconsciousness. I should labor in its cause alone. I would take thought for the morrow of eternity alone. I would esteem one soul gained for heaven worth a life of suffering. Earthly consequences would never stay my hand, or seal my lips. Earth, its joys and its griefs, would occupy no moment of my thoughts. I would strive to look upon eternity alone, and on the immortal souls around me, soon to be everlastingly happy or everlastingly miserable. I would go forth to the world and preach to it in season and out of season, and my text would be:

‘WHAT SHALL PROFIT A MAN IF HE GAIN THE WHOLE WORLD AND LOSE HIS OWN SOUL?’”