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“You number my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle. Are they not in Your book?”
— Psalm 56:8
There were more tears than you thought there would be.
Some came in front of people.
Some came quietly.
And some came in rooms where no one else ever knew you were crying.
But Someone did.
You Kept Every Tear was created around one of the most tender pictures Scripture gives us of the attention of God.
Psalm 56 doesn't tell us that David never cried. It tells us that in the middle of fear, opposition, and sorrow, he believed something remarkable about God:
Not one tear went unnoticed.
Maybe you know what happened here.
Maybe your here was a bathroom floor. A bedroom. A parked car. A hospital hallway. Somewhere you went because you needed a minute before walking back into your life.
Or maybe your story looked nothing like this at all.
You get to bring your own there to this photograph.
The tissues remain. The Bible is still open. The light is still on.
And tucked quietly into the darkness are four words:
not one was wasted.
Because the God of Psalm 56 is not indifferent to what hurts us.
He notices.
He remembers.
He keeps count.
The tears you cried when nobody was watching were not invisible to Him. The ones you wiped away before anyone noticed mattered. The ones you couldn't stop mattered too.
You were not alone in that room.
Even there, He saw you.
Even there, He kept every tear.
“You number my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle. Are they not in Your book?”
— Psalm 56:8
There were more tears than you thought there would be.
Some came in front of people.
Some came quietly.
And some came in rooms where no one else ever knew you were crying.
But Someone did.
You Kept Every Tear was created around one of the most tender pictures Scripture gives us of the attention of God.
Psalm 56 doesn't tell us that David never cried. It tells us that in the middle of fear, opposition, and sorrow, he believed something remarkable about God:
Not one tear went unnoticed.
Maybe you know what happened here.
Maybe your here was a bathroom floor. A bedroom. A parked car. A hospital hallway. Somewhere you went because you needed a minute before walking back into your life.
Or maybe your story looked nothing like this at all.
You get to bring your own there to this photograph.
The tissues remain. The Bible is still open. The light is still on.
And tucked quietly into the darkness are four words:
not one was wasted.
Because the God of Psalm 56 is not indifferent to what hurts us.
He notices.
He remembers.
He keeps count.
The tears you cried when nobody was watching were not invisible to Him. The ones you wiped away before anyone noticed mattered. The ones you couldn't stop mattered too.
You were not alone in that room.
Even there, He saw you.
Even there, He kept every tear.