I Am Comforted
I Am Comforted
I am he who comforts you.
—Isaiah 51:12
The second the bus stopped at the corner, my little girl climbed off and ran as fast as she could toward where I stood.
Something wasn’t right. She was crying.
Immediately my mind jumped to worst-case scenarios. Did someone threaten her at school? Had she hurt herself seriously in gym class? Good heavens, did a teacher or one of her friends die?
Turns out her wound wasn’t quite so dramatic. But it hurt just the same.
Someone had told her they didn’t like her anymore. In typical grade-school fashion, the mood of the relationship had turned sour on the playground. As a result, my girl fell out of the other girl’s affection.
There on the street corner, I held her close while she cried. I was glad she told me. But what made me most proud is what she said next: “When we get home, can we cuddle?”
For years I’ve been working with my girl to learn how to ask for what she needs. It’s hard for her, tough girl that she is. Typically she either guts it out or reverts to theatrics. Instead, we’ve been discussing how to use words to communicate needs. No drama, no false front of strength. Just an honest admission of hurts and what she needs to help fix it.
That day, on the street corner, she did just that. She expressed her hurt. And then she asked for my comfort. I was thrilled to oblige.
If only I could learn to do the same.
Most days I’m glad to be an adult. I mean, really. Who wants to travel back to the days of diapers and pureed peas? Or how about those adolescent years when pimples threw a facial party and peers found a way to make me apologize for my existence in the world? And don’t even get me started on playground drama, homework, and early bedtimes.
Wait. That last part? I could totally go back and do that again. Sleep rocks.
For the most part, I’m glad the struggle of youth is behind me. Being an adult certainly has its rewards. No pureed peas topping the list.
When I’m hurt or discouraged or afraid, however, my adult skin wears thin. When bills demand paying and parenting proves impossible. When marriage is hard, friendships struggle, and doctor’s appointments fill a calendar.
Then I wish to travel back in time, when a girl’s greatest fears could be soothed in a mama’s arms. Held close, all was well. To a child, there’s nothing greater than a parent’s ability to comfort.
But comfort doesn’t come so easily to us grownups. Where do you and I go when relationships wound and the injustice of life stings? Who waits for us on the corner when we can’t stop crying?
We adults carry such responsibility, don’t we? Such blunt knowledge of the unfairness and volatility of this life. Even if we avoid news and media, fear and pain still have a way of finding us. We can’t escape them. Who do we turn to for comfort?
Ourselves, more often than not. We either erect a false front of strength or cave in to a pattern of complaining. But neither the pretending nor the pining brings much relief to our aching hearts.
There’s a better way. The Bible is rich with examples of men who voiced their needs and asked God for His comfort. Even better, the Bible nearly explodes with examples of God’s corresponding tireless affection. At times He comforted those He loved through their circumstances, and other times He comforted them in their circumstances:
- To the leader Joshua, overwhelmed by his new task: “Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged” (Josh. 1:9).
- To the Israelites enslaved by ruthless Egyptians: “I am concerned about their suffering” (Ex. 3:7).
- To the widow who had lost her only son: “Don’t cry” (Luke 7:13).
- To the adulteress caught in her shameful sin: “Neither do I condemn you” (John 8:11).
- To the blind man longing to see: “Receive your sight; your faith has healed you” (Luke 18:42).
- To the sisters who had lost their beloved brother, “Jesus wept” (John 11:35).
- To the disciples, who ached because their friend would be leaving them, Jesus said: “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matt. 28:20).
And to those of us who wade through the deep waters of this modern life, longing for a world we’ve heard about but have not yet seen, Jesus promises:
- “I am going there to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2).
- And “I am coming soon” (Rev. 3:11; 22:7, 12, 20).
Regardless of your pain—whether physical, emotional, or spiritual—you don’t have to pretend to be strong, nor do you need to succumb to your tears. Shed your grown-up skin. Become a child in the presence of a comforting Father. Like so many throughout the Old and New Testaments, don’t be afraid to expose your need and ask God for comfort. Then, count on Him to deliver.
“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit,” the Bible says (Ps. 34:18). Nestle in, my friend. Comfort is coming.
Tell God all that is in your heart, as one unloads one’s heart, its pleasures and its pain, to a dear friend. Tell Him your troubles, that He may comfort you; tell Him your joys, that He may sober them; tell Him your longings, that He may purify them; tell Him your dislikes, that He may help you to conquer them; talk to Him of your temptations, that He may shield you from them; show Him the wounds of your heart, that He may heal them.
—FRANÇOIS DE SALIGNAC DE LA MOTHE FÉNELON, SPIRITUAL LETTERS
Who Am I?
A person’s experience with human comfort—or the lack thereof—can have a powerful impact on their trust in God’s comfort. If the comfort of a parent was absent or unpredictable, it can be terrifying to expose a need to God, who might not come through. But even the best parental relationships only hint at what God longs to provide. Although our human relationships will always be flawed, the comfort of God is perfect. And trustworthy. How has your human experience of comfort impacted your expectation (or lack thereof) of comfort from God? Allow the truth of the Bible to rewrite what you believe about God’s offer to comfort you.
From the book
