Tears shed for self are tears of weakness, but tears shed for

“Tears shed for self are tears of weakness, but tears shed for others are a sign of strength.” So declared Billy Graham, the preacher whose voice carried both thunder and tenderness across nations. In this saying he lifts the veil on a deep truth: that weeping for one’s own misfortune is easy and natural, but to weep for another’s sorrow is an act of nobility. For self-pity drains the soul, but compassion enlarges it; one shrinks into weakness, while the other rises into strength.

The ancients understood the power of such tears. They told of heroes who did not weep for themselves, even in agony, but wept for their people. Achilles, though fierce and unyielding, shed tears not for his wounds but for the loss of his friend Patroclus, and in those tears was found the greatness of his humanity. In every age, the strongest are not those who never weep, but those who weep for the suffering of others, carrying their burdens in their own hearts.

For the first kind of tears—tears for self—are born of despair, of a spirit overwhelmed. They may fall, but they do not lift; they may cleanse, but they do not heal. Yet the second kind—tears for others—flow from compassion, and compassion is the mark of the mighty. To feel another’s sorrow so deeply that it becomes your own is not weakness but courage, for it requires the heart to open itself to pain it could easily turn away from. These tears strengthen bonds, inspire mercy, and heal the invisible wounds of the world.

Consider the life of Mahatma Gandhi, who bore imprisonment, hunger, and humiliation without weeping for himself. But when his people suffered under violence and poverty, he was moved to tears. Those tears became a force stronger than armies, for they were not born of weakness but of empathy. His sorrow for others gave rise to action, and his compassion became strength that moved nations. Gandhi showed the world that tears for others are not to be hidden, but to be honored.

So too with Abraham Lincoln, who during the years of the Civil War often wept in silence for the lives lost on both sides. He did not weep for his own struggles, though they were great; his tears were for the soldiers, for the mothers, for the broken nation he bore on his shoulders. Those tears did not diminish his power—they magnified it, for they revealed a heart great enough to hold the suffering of millions. Such tears became the wellspring of his endurance, the quiet strength of a leader who carried more than himself.

O children of tomorrow, know this: to cry for yourself alone is natural, but to cry for another is divine. Do not fear such tears, for they are not weakness. They are the proof that your heart is alive, that you are strong enough to carry burdens beyond your own. The warrior who fights only for himself is fierce, but the warrior who fights for others is immortal. So it is with tears—the smallest drops, when shed in compassion, shine brighter than crowns of gold.

The lesson is plain: true strength is compassion. Practically, let each person do this: when faced with suffering, do not harden your heart to appear strong. Allow yourself to feel, to enter into another’s pain, and if tears come, let them fall without shame. Then let those tears become the seed of action—comfort the grieving, serve the broken, fight for the oppressed. For tears alone are not enough, but tears turned to deeds can heal the world.

Thus remember Billy Graham’s wisdom: “Tears shed for self are tears of weakness, but tears shed for others are a sign of strength.” Let them guide you as a lantern in dark times. For the strongest hearts are not those that never break, but those that break for others—and in breaking, pour forth a compassion that holds the world together.