Cry me a river / Picking up on Post-modernism

I'm an old guy. As I think about it, as of this day and date, I am quite close to having lived precisely two thirds of a century. That is, in terms of percentages, 66 2/3 %, or, in decimals, .667. One thing that I continue to observe about myself is that my tear ducts remain open and active. It isn't simply that "sad movies make me cry", not that that's not true - rather, it's that I seem to have a strange capacity for crying in places and circumstances that really don't appear to be all that appropriate. By appropriate, I mean, a particularly sad, or even enjoyable, situation. Let me present a couple of examples. Now, granted, I did not burst into tears, or sob uncontrollably, I simply found my eyes to be tearing up - if you know what I mean. The three videos that I am posting (see below) would not normally qualify as tear jerkers. Don't ask me why they elicit (not illicit) tears. My only explanation is that I cry because I, often sub-consciously, find that the things being spoken are finding a firm lodging place in my mind or understanding. They resonate with me as being well-said, as being the truth. Surely, that doesn't account for all the times nor all the reasons that I weep. Also, it does not account for the extent of my crying, that is, for the number of teardrops that are shed. For that, I just cannot account. It may be that that's just the way God made me. If that is true, see me weeping in gratitude, for in at least that sense, I am "fearfully and wonderfully made".

There are moments when I weep unabashedly and, I suppose, appropriately. A prime example of that would be when I think of our son Brian, and the tragedy that was his life. (See the collage of pictures on the side-bar). No, I really don't think I'm that much of an old softy. I'm just an old hard shell with a whole bunch of mushy spots. Sometimes I think I ought to hate being like this, but no, I think I'll just keep on loving this way that God made me. Tears won't get me to heaven, but they certainly won't keep me out, and they may, if channelled appropriately, serve to indicate that I, like David, the sweet psalmist of Israel, am "a man after (bent toward) God's own heart". I hope so, but still, "my hope is ultimately, built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and (Jesus') righteousness".
What is it that opens the flood-gates of tears for you?

Post-modernism is the name that has been given
to the popular, and pervasive, assertion that
there is no absolute truth, that what is true
for you may well not be true for me, and vice-versa. Watch the videos below and pick up a few
pointers, in the interest of being able to refute post-modernism

What is Truth? J. P. Moreland

Core of Postmodernism

A World of Difference - Kenneth Samples