The Cry We Don't Understand | A Call To Sacred Empathy

The supermarket was buzzing with its usual mid-week chaos. Carts clattered, registers beeped, and people moved with that focused, slightly weary determination of getting groceries and getting home. I was in my own world, mentally checking off my list—hummus, challah, almond milk—when I heard it.

It started as a low, frustrated murmur and then escalated into a full-throated, desperate wail. A young mother, her face flushed and etched with pure exhaustion, was trying to wrangle a toddler who had thrown himself on the floor in the cereal aisle. The child was screaming, a raw, piercing sound that cut through the store’s noise. The mother’s voice, strained and sharp, rose to meet it. “Stop it! Just stop it right now! I can’t do this!”

For a split second, the entire aisle froze. I saw the looks—the raised eyebrows, the subtle shakes of heads, the whispered comments. I felt it too, that initial, internal judgment. If she just disciplined him better… If she stayed calmer… My children never…

But then, Adonai caught my spirit. My eyes dropped to her cart. It was filled with the bare essentials, the generic brands. She was still in her work uniform. One of the toddler’s shoes was missing. And in her eyes, I didn’t see anger. I saw a profound, crumbling despair. This wasn’t a tantrum about sugar; this was the sound of a dam breaking. This was the final straw on a back already burdened by stress, sleeplessness, financial worry, and utter loneliness.

In that moment, my judgment melted into a shame-tinged compassion. Instead of another criticizing glance, she needed a kind word. Instead of isolation, she needed an ally. I walked over, picked up the rogue box of cereal, and said softly, “It’s okay. We’ve all been there. Can I help you with anything?”

The relief that washed over her face was more powerful than her tears. She wasn’t alone anymore.

How many times have we witnessed such a scene—a public cry, a burst of anger, tears that seem to come from nowhere—and secretly judged the person for not having it all together? If we, as followers of Yeshua (Jesus) and children of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, are to be His hands and feet, we must learn to listen to the heart-cry behind the noise.

The Humanity of Yeshua: He Understands Our Weaknesses

We serve a Messiah who is not distant from our pain. He didn’t observe humanity from a pristine, heavenly throne with clinical detachment. He entered into the messiness of our existence. The book of Hebrews gives us a breathtaking truth about our Messiah:

"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to feel sympathy for our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin." (Hebrews 4:15)

While this is from the New Testament, it echoes the prophecy of Isaiah, who described the suffering servant who would be “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3). Yeshua knew exhaustion. He knew hunger and thirst. He felt the deep sorrow of losing a friend like Lazarus. He experienced the betrayal of those closest to Him and the agony of impending torture. He understands the human impulse to scream, to cry out, to ask for the cup to be taken away.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, moments before His arrest, Yeshua’s soul was “overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matthew 26:38). He fell on His face and prayed with such intensity that His sweat was like drops of blood. This is not a Savior who is surprised by our emotional breakdowns. He Himself experienced the weight of a pain so heavy it threatened to crush Him.

In practical life: This means when we see someone falling under their own weight of sorrow, our first response shouldn't be to question the validity of their pain, but to remember that our Messiah understands it intimately. We are called to reflect His empathy, not the world’s criticism.

The Psalms: The Permission to Lament

Our spiritual forefathers knew how to cry out. The entire book of Psalms is a gift to us, a collection of divinely inspired prayers and songs that run the full gamut of human emotion. A vast number of them are psalms of lament—raw, honest, and sometimes messy cries to God.

"How long, Adonai? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?" (Psalm 13:1-2)

David, a man after God’s own heart, didn’t hide his despair. He yelled it. He questioned God. He poured out his fear, his loneliness, his anger, and his confusion. He didn’t have it all together. And God didn’t reject him for it; He included these cries in the holy canon of Scripture. This teaches us that God is not afraid of our big emotions. He invites us to bring our unfiltered selves to Him.

In practical life: When we hear someone’s lament—whether it’s a cry of grief, frustration, or fear—we must recognize it for what it often is: a prayer. It may not sound holy to our ears, but it is the sound of a human heart reaching for its Creator in the only way it knows how in that moment. We can choose to be a comforting, non-judgmental presence, a tangible reminder of God’s listening ear.

The Proverbs: The Wisdom of a Gentle Response

Judgment is easy. Empathy is wise. The book of Proverbs is filled with practical wisdom for how we interact with one another, and it has very strong words about how we treat those who are hurting.

"The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing." (Proverbs 12:18)

"A person’s wisdom yields patience; it is to one’s glory to overlook an offense." (Proverbs 19:11)

A reckless word, a judgmental glance, a piece of unsolicited advice—these can pierce a soul that is already bleeding. But a wise, gentle response can be a balm. It’s not our job to diagnose the reason for their pain or to fix it immediately. Our first job is to be a source of healing, not another source of pain. Sometimes, the most spiritual thing we can do is simply be present and withhold our opinion.

In practical life: Before you react to someone’s emotional outburst, pause. Ask for wisdom from the Ruach HaKodesh (the Holy Spirit). Choose a response that seeks to understand rather than to correct. A simple, “That sounds incredibly difficult,” or “I’m so sorry you’re going through this,” is often more powerful than any sermon.

Becoming a Community of Kindness

We are called to be a light to the nations, a set-apart people. But being set-apart doesn’t mean being set above. It means being set aside for a purpose: to embody the love and character of God. A huge part of that character is chesed—lovingkindness, steadfast love, and mercy.

We are the family of God. In a family, when one member hurts, the others feel it and rally. When a baby cries, the whole house wakes up to attend to its need. It doesn’t judge the baby for being hungry or needing a change. It simply responds with love and care.

"Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Messiah." (Galatians 6:2)

This is our shared mission. To create communities where it is safe to not be okay. Where a cry for help is met with open arms, not raised eyebrows. Where we assume the best of each other, believing that people are doing the best they can with what they have in that moment.

A Shared Mission of Support

Perhaps you read this today and felt a nudge from the Ruach. Maybe you remembered a time you were quick to judge, or perhaps you’re in a season where you are the one feeling judged in your pain.

This community, this walk of faith, is a journey we are on together. We are here to learn, to grow, and to support one another as we strive to be more like our empathetic Messiah.

If this message resonated with you, here are a few ways you can help us continue to build this kind of supportive community:

· Pray: Pray for those in our midst who are carrying silent, heavy burdens. Pray for eyes to see and ears to hear the heart-cries around us. Pray for a spirit of wisdom and gentleness to replace any judgment in our hearts.

· Share: Share this message of empathy with someone who needs to hear it—whether they need permission to lament or a reminder to offer kindness.

· Encourage: Reach out to someone today. Send a text, make a call, offer a helping hand. Be the tangible expression of God’s chesed.

· Give: If you feel led, your financial support helps us continue to create resources, host gatherings, and fund outreach that promotes this very message of hope and practical love. Your contribution isn’t just a donation; it’s a partnership in building a kinder, more compassionate community.

Thank you for being a part of this family. Thank you for your heart to learn, to love, and to reflect the beautiful, understanding face of our Messiah to a world in desperate need of His embrace.

Baruch ha'ba b'Shem Adonai. (Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.)