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"The Comfort" by Michael Dudash |
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courtesy of Lysha Broad,
copyright 2011
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Those prayers come from people who profess to be Christians as
well as those who don’t. It’s instinctively human to avoid pain.
We begin learning the value of being sheltered from Day 1. Human
adults are wired to protect their babies, so most of us learn from parental
protection the bliss of hiding from life’s storms, held safe from harm and
pain. As we grow, we carry a deep-seated instinct to seek shelter from harm
wherever we can find it…in someone’s arms, or words, or deeds.
Isaiah said God had been “a shelter from the storm” (Isaiah 25:4)
That Scripture reference confirms what we’ve learned…this world brings things
we should avoid. Why else would God need to shelter?
Isaiah was right. God does sometimes stand directly between us and
life’s storms. When He does, we just don’t feel the pain. Either we get through
the intersection 20 seconds before someone runs a red light, or cells we didn’t
even know we had don’t mutate into cancer, or the spouse that thought of
straying doesn’t. Shelter means protection, and I’m sure God shelters us a lot
more than we realize.
What does get our attention quickly is when He does not totally
shelter us; the times when pain reaches us. Think about the last time you
hurt….really hurt. Everyone who has ever walked this earth has felt that
feeling. I have felt that pain, too. When it hits, I instinctively ask God for protection.
But many times protection does not come.
During those times of un-sheltered pain, I have often read stories
of protection; both in the Bible and in motivational magazines like Guideposts. I remember
thinking, “Well, God, where are MY angels? Why won’t you send some to protect
me? I feel like I’ve been thrown to the wolves!”
But God plays another role in the midst of un-sheltered pain. In
the New Testament, Paul calls God “the God of all comforts” (2 Corinthians 1:3
ASV) That’s a very different role from being a shelter.
God as shelter means there is pain, but God shields me from it.
God as comfort means sometimes I will hurt. The mere fact that He is “the God
of all comforts” makes that inevitable.
When I cry out to God in the midst of pain, my words are seldom
thankful or tender. But God’s merciful answer is the next best thing to not
feeling the pain. He comforts me. Whether it’s a hug, a kind word, or a pot of
hot soup, comfort in tough times just can’t be beat.
Looking back at the times I’ve “talked back” to God, I now realize
that was the key. Sound strange? Well, maybe my choice of words wasn’t the best…but
continuing to talk to Him no matter what happened was critical. I’ve spoken to
God through tears more times than I can count. I’ve spoken to Him in angry
tones, in defeated tones, and in shattered tones.
Without fail, every time I pour out my unraveled emotions and reactions
to the pain, He brings comfort. The pain lessens. The simple, natural act of
pouring all of my raw emotions and reactions and weaknesses at His feet opens
up room within me to let Him in further. As the warmth of His love spreads into
the space left by everything that the brokenness drained away, I lift my head
to face another day. Somehow, calmed by His comfort, I have the strength to
move on.
I think He just wants me to be ME with Him. He’s a big God; he can
handle me being angry with Him, or hurt with Him, or even petulant with Him. He
would rather hear me tell Him that I think He’s failed me than to not speak to
Him at all. He knows that’s not true; He knows that His plan in that time is
just to comfort instead of to shelter.
So…sometimes He shelters and pain never comes. Other times, pain
breaks through and He comforts me. In all times, there is one constant: If the
pain makes it through, He is there to act as my comfort. I just have to remember
that taking Him up on His offer is as easy as letting go.
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