He Will Wipe Away Every Tear.

Jesse is a year and a half old, and he has been walking for a few months. Which means he has been falling a lot. He is still wobbly on his feet, still working out where the edges of things are, and he goes down constantly.

The coffee table. The doorframe. His own feet. His older brother. There are a lot of tears in our house right now.

And of course, when he falls, I don't call across the room to tell him he's okay. I don't stand over him and wait for it to pass. I get down on the floor. I bring myself all the way down until my face is level with his face, and that is usually the moment the crying begins to slow.

Not because the bump stopped hurting. Because someone came down to where he was.

I read Revelation 21:4 this week, and that picture would not leave me.

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes."

You cannot wipe a tear from across a room. You cannot do it from a throne on the far side of heaven. To wipe a tear, you have to be close enough to touch a face. You have to come all the way down.

That is the whole story of God, when you stand back and look at it. Not a God who stays high and far off, calling instructions down from a safe distance.

A God who comes down. Who was born in a stable. Who knelt to wash the dirt off His friends' feet. Who wept at a graveside before He did anything about the grave.

The God of the entire universe, down on the floor, at eye level, close enough to wipe a tear from your face.

We tend to imagine comfort as the problem disappearing. But Jesse doesn't need the fall undone. He needs me near.

And maybe that is closer to what God is offering you today than the fix you keep asking Him for. He has not promised that you will never fall. He has promised to be the One who gets down on the floor with you when you do.

There is a day coming when He wipes the last tear for good. No more death, no more mourning, no more crying, no more pain. The falling finally over. That day is real, and it is worth holding onto with both hands.

But you do not have to wait until then to have Him close. The same hand that will wipe every tear on that day is near enough to reach you in this one.

So if you are on the floor today, if the tears are real and the bump still hurts, you are not down there on your own. He has not stayed standing above it all.

He came all the way down to where you are. That is where He has always done His most tender work. Right down on the floor, face to face, close enough to wipe it away.