Comfort that Stays Close
Well, bless my boots, friend, you’ve done wandered up here this ol’ front porch right when my heart was fixin’ to share somethin’ mighty good. Pull up a comfy rocker and settle yourself for a lil’ ol’ moment. I’ve been thinkin’ about comfort this mornin’, the kind that settles over a hurtin’ soul the way a warm barn light settles over a shiverin’ lil’ ol’ calf on a cold winter night. Paul tells us in Second Corinthians 1:3-4 that “God is the Father of mercies and the source of all comfort, and He comforts us so we can comfort others.” That there’s not no theory. That there’s downright lived truth.
I remember a story about a little boy runnin’ back inside the house with big ol’ tears fallin’ faster than a summer rainstorm. He had done scraped his back on somethin’ mighty sharp, and the pain plum took his breath away. His grandparent scooped him up, held him tight, and did what they could. Ice pack, arms wrapped around him, quiet presence. They couldn’t take away the pain, but they could sit with him until it eased. And, friend, sometimes that there’s exactly what ministry looks like.
Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” That there plum means God don’t stand far off when we are hurtin’. He sho’-nuff’ draws near, the way a faithful ol’ hound dog settles beside someone sittin’ alone on the porch. And He calls us to do the same. Not fix. Not rush. Not patch up what only time and God can heal. Just be present.
When folks are sufferin’, they don’t need no clichés or quick answers. They plum need arms around their shoulders, ears that listen, and hearts that stay steady. I’ve walked through seasons where presence meant more than any kind of words. After a deep loss, the greatest gift anyone gave me was simply bein’ there. No questions. No pressure. Just quiet companionship.
Father, thank You for comfortin’ us in every trouble. Thank You for teachin’ us how to comfort others with the same mercy You give. Help us be present, patient, and tender with those who hurt. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
Well, there it is now, friend. And as you begin makin’ your way on back down the path that leads to the next adventures of your day, you gotta be takin’ this here truth with you like a real soft quilt folded across your shoulders. You’ve gotta be lettin’ compassion rise up in you the way the mornin’ mist rises over a still pond. You’ve gotta be present for the hurtin’, be gentle with the broken, and remember that sometimes the holiest thing you can offer is simply to be showin’ up and stayin’ real close, just quietly bein’ there.
With joy,
Gwen
