If you’ve ever cried so hard your whole body felt tired, if you’ve buried your face in a pillow to muffle the sobs or sat in silence with tears running down your face and no words left—David gets it. Psalm 6 doesn’t dress anything up. It’s not polished or poetic. It’s real.
David doesn’t just admit he’s weeping—he says he’s drenched his bed with tears. He’s exhausted, heartbroken and worn thin. And yet, in that vulnerable place, he doesn’t run from God. He runs to Him.
Maybe you’ve been there. Crying alone in the car after a hard conversation. Weeping behind the bathroom door so no one hears. Trying to pray but saying nothing because the pain is too deep. Whether you’re grieving a loss, dealing with disappointment, or carrying years of silent hurt, your tears matter.
God doesn’t flinch at our pain. He doesn’t turn away from our mess. He steps into it.
Later in this same psalm, David writes, “The Lord has heard my weeping … the Lord accepts my prayer.” Let that settle in—God hears your cries, even the ones you never speak aloud. He sees the heartache behind your closed doors. He welcomes every broken prayer, every tear-soaked plea.
Tears are not a sign of weakness. They are sacred. They are the soul’s way of saying, “This is too much for me.” And God responds. He comforts. He heals.
So if you’re in a season of weeping, don’t hide it. Bring your tears to the One who already knows. Let them fall, and trust that none are wasted. Each one is seen. Each one is held. Each one is part of your healing.
You are not alone in your sorrow. God is near. And He is already at work, turning even your tears into something redemptive.
