All in Comfort
Albert György created a statue to portray his intense grief after the death of his wife. The statue, called Melancholy, is located in Geneva, Switzerland. If you haven’t seen it, look it up. It’s been said the statue’s bowed head, huge hole in the torso, and missing pieces of flesh and muscle express as nothing else the feeling of deep, consuming grief.
Finally, God breaks His silence. But He doesn’t come walking in the garden in the cool of the day (Genesis 3:8) as He came to question Adam and Eve. Nor does He come in a gentle whisper as to Elijah on the mountain (1 King 19:12). He comes out of a storm, a literal whirlwind, not angry but overwhelming and intense, questioning, challenging.
The endless cacophony between Job and his four friends is over and God essentially tells Job to be still: who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?” Indeed! And with that the LORD beckons His servant Job (42:7,8)—servant having the connotation of the one I trust, who worships me (Strong’s)—to come in close: “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). You see, Job had to step away from his circumstances to know the One who was in control.
2020, what a rough year for our family. And guess what? Nothing that happened had anything to do with Covid.
How had his world collapsed so quickly? Only days before, Jacob had lived a life of security, comfort and ease. Now he was running for his life in an unfamiliar land. Jacob’s brother wanted him dead. Jacob had lied and deceived his father.
I have one dear “sister friend” who often says the comforting words, “God knows.” She doesn’t know these two words are a treasure to me. I don’t tell her, but I remember the specific times she has said them to me when her words were a gift.
No one said anything. They just pretended it didn’t happen.
My friend had suffered her second miscarriage in six months. Devastated, she felt her dreams of motherhood fading away.
I don’t think I’ll ever have children. I don’t deserve to be a mother.
I looked over at my friend. She dropped her head, tears filling her eyes.
A silent nursery waited to receive the little one who would never come.
As I stood in the muddy cemetery, rain clouds building all around, I knew this was the first step of healing for the young family before me. The little casket sat next to a teddy bear. The mom, wearing a light pink dress, worshiped in the front row as her husband led the small gathering in “Amazing Grace.”
As we discussed breaking down walls and strongholds in Bible study that morning I looked down at my hand. A recent surgery and stitches on my right little finger left behind some major scar tissue.
Dear struggling friend,
My heart aches for you. I understand a measure of your pain. My pain may be different than yours and caused by different things, but I’ve been hopeless and paralyzed by fear. I’ve been in the depths of grief, depression and despair. Dark thoughts have consumed me, I couldn’t function, and I believed nothing would change. People’s words bounced off me, written words, even the Word, meant nothing. I looked at others and asked myself, “how can they go about their lives like everything is okay?” More than once—and yes—even as a follower of Jesus.
December ushers in the Christmas season. Everyone is wonderfully happy and selfless, or so the retail marketers and filmmakers would like us to believe. The commercials and movies show pictures of smiling people baking Christmas cookies and selecting the perfect gift. All the houses are elaborately decorated both inside and out. A mound of gifts waiting to be opened lies under a beautifully adorned Christmas tree as the problem-free family congregates.
“But, you don’t understand my problems.” “But, I can’t help it. That’s just how I am.” “But I…” “But…”
They’re back! There’s one. There’s another. Look over there. I see it too! The lightning bugs had returned to brighten the evening hours. The girls squealed with amazement at the sight, and my own mind went back to childhood days when we ran to catch them in Mason jars then marveled at the twinkling container.
While fishing on a river near flood stage, my husband noticed what appeared to be red leaves floating at a distance. But upon close inspection, he discovered instead that each red patch was composed of thousands of ants intertwined. Heavy rains had washed the ants out of their homes. They were holding onto each other and floating in order to survive. When Don splashed water on the ants, the water bounced off. These ants were averting disaster by remaining close to one another.
Jesus spoke earlier in John 8:12, “…I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” The light Jesus provided for Thomas has continued to light the way for His followers throughout the centuries.
How does God comfort His children? How does God comfort you? I imagine the answers to those questions are as varied as the life situations that bring the need for comforting! I experienced a very serious illness this past year and discovered that I consistently needed God’s comfort during the quiet of the night. I experienced few distractions to my physical and emotional suffering during those hours. It was just God and me—alone with my need for comfort. So, how did God ease my distress as I actively sought Him?
It’s painful to hear, especially when your heart is numb from loss and your eyes red with tears—Death, where is your sting? You want to shout, “It’s right here in the pit of my stomach and the ache in my heart!”
Our God is a keeper of promises. In the Old Testament when it says that “He remembers”, it means that He acts according to His promises.
