I hear rain tumbling through gutters. I see rain bombing the street, streaks illuminated in headlights of passing cars. Drops ricochet off the pavement to form a clear, watery crown in midair before falling again to join other drops rushing towards the storm drain.

“As Jesus approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it.” (Luke 19:41) Today, He sees my city. And He weeps.

Lord, break my heart for this city. Release tears to tumble through tearducts, overflowing the roofline of my bottom eyelid. Tears of heartache and salty hope.

Cars plow through puddles. Rolling tires persecute the rain water, scattering her to either side like missionaries sent out into the world. Tears of empathy rush to the curb, humbly flowing, always seeking the lowest places. Tears somehow know that the best way to release dirty water trapped in potholes is to join them in the potholes. By mourning with those who mourn, I dive in deep, taking up enough space that those around me are pushed upward, brimming over the edge and out to freedom.

For a change, our California ground is saturated. Rain runs off rather than seeps in. California’s drought may have ended, but not from God’s vantage point. We are parched and thirsty. Throats are dry from cheering for empty victories. I doubt this city will ever reach the saturation point of God’s love and the message of Hope.

Yet I will join You, Jesus, in weeping for the brokenness of my city.

My tears falling to the ground, splashing in the shape of a crown fit for my King, fit for the King of this city.