Immanuel, God with us, comforts in many ways. Perhaps we experience real comfort comes
through a song that touches our soul, or through something we read or a mystical
sense of God’s presence. Perhaps we
experience comfort through the care of a beloved friend. In our work as therapists at SRP, one of our
goals is to be with people in such a way that they experience comfort in their pain,
disappointments and challenges. Our hope
is that this way of being, this relationship, will be a conduit of true
comfort, meeting each person at their point of need.
Comfort soothes in our time of affliction or distress. Sometimes our distress is on the surface. We find ourselves in touch with our loss. For many of us this is uncomfortable; we feel
naked. Such vulnerability is risky. We often fear being judged and we judge
ourselves. We feel weak. Or we fear the pain will overwhelm us. Other times our wounds and fears remain hidden
below the surface driving us unaware. Experiencing
comfort is complex… and vulnerable.
To receive true comfort we need to experience our true
sorrow. We are invited into the darkness
of our loss and uncertainty with the promise that Comfort can be experienced. We may struggle in the darkness. In our fallen world, and to varying degrees
in our personal histories, comfort is hit or miss. If every time we had a need we experienced
comfort, we could more easily trust that our needs would be met. Advent holds the promise of the coming of Comfort. It is promised. This place of darkness, of waiting for
comfort, is not an easy place, but it can be a holy experience, a place of
courage and faith… and the doorway into comforting connection.
Don Diva and I are both aware of our need for comfort this
Christmas season. For Don, this has been
a year of transition. He stepped out in faith
and vision as he transitioned from the ministry where he served full-time for
over 15 years to his work full-time as a therapist with the SRP. His prior ministry was the context where he
and his wife Erin met, married and began their family. It was home base. This exciting and planned change holds the
promise of new areas of service and the next growth step in his vocation as a
therapist, but it comes with the uncertainties inherent in change. He needs comfort to steady himself and his
family in the transition.
For me, this year involved many losses and changes related to my father being diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease). The losses for my father and for our family have been manifold. Shortly after my dad was diagnosed I connected with a friend’s friend whose father had passed away from ALS. She welcomed me to “a club of amazing people and resources” in the ALS community, that, as she put it, “no one wanted to join.” Comfort comes through many sources. God’s comfort is incarnate in so many ways.
Awaiting true comfort is central to Advent. Consider the beginning of Handel’s Messiah,
taken from Isaiah 40, a passage that prophesies the coming of Jesus,
Comfort,
comfort ye my people, Speak ye peace, thus saith our God;
Comfort
those who sit in darkness, Mourning ‘neath their sorrows’ load;
Speak
ye to Jerusalem Of the peace that waits for them,
Tell
her that her sins I cover, And her warfare now is over.
Jesus came into our world in all of the vulnerability of
a baby to bring comfort to a distressed world.
He ushered in a new age of Comfort.
Likewise Jesus’ comfort comes to us in our darkness… in our losses and
uncertainty.
I hope that you experience His Comfort this Christmas as
we celebrate the promise of His coming Comfort,
Catherine
An excellent post, this. Sometimes when life is hard, it is easy to forget that there is real comfort afoot. So, now I say, "Be jubilant my feet! Our God is marching on."
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