My Comfort, My Shelter

"The Comfort" by Michael Dudash

courtesy of Lysha Broad,

www.ARTsonality.com

copyright 2011

I go to church regularly, and I pray with people regularly. It is always interesting to hear what people pray. A lot of what I hear is prayers for God’s sheltering protection; from harm, from illness, from ruin of all sorts.

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.

Covered Cabins

Last August my husband and I bought a cabin in the north Georgia mountains. It is a small piece of paradise perched on a steep mountainside. For the first few months, we were totally surrounded by lush greenery. It was like living in a tree house. We loved the isolated location; four miles from the gated community entrance. Every drive back to the cabin took us past less than a dozen houses, with the closest neighbor in sight over a half mile away. We loved that we could look in any direction and see no sign of civilization. Trees, birds, and streams were our only companions.

Once fall’s majestic colors faded, however, we were in for a surprise. Suddenly we saw dozens of houses that we didn’t know were there! The neighborhood was still sparsely populated; only 295 houses spread among 5900 acres.  But now every turn seemed to reveal another dwelling; tucked away in another corner of the woods, there all the time…but we had no idea!

Driving to church from the cabin early one Sunday morning, I was deep in thought about how to handle a really tough time in my life. I struggled to find answers and faced things I had never faced before. I just couldn’t find the strength to overcome them. But as I drove, things suddenly came into focus, and I saw a weakness I had never before realized within me. In that moment I knew the weakness stood between me and the strength…and solutions…that I needed so badly.

Just as the coming of winter stripped away the beautiful green leaves that hid those cabins, going through my hard time forced me to reach past the pretty “leaves” that I used to cover my weakness. When life was easy, I focused on everyday life and avoided what lay beneath the routine of the expected. But when forced to deal with my unexpected crisis, surviving became anything but routine. That tough time forced me to reach deep down into who I really was; to find a foundation solid enough to stand on. To find my way to the other side of my struggle, I had to push aside the pretty branches of comfortable normalcy and take a fresh, deeper look into myself. What I saw was a weakness; there the whole time, yet hidden.

Just like those cabins. Hidden in the summer, yet so easy to see in wintertime’s leafless wonder. Hiding my weakness didn’t make it non-existent; it just made it easier to ignore. But once the covering was stripped away, I couldn’t ignore it! I took a deep breath, asked God to make His strength perfect in my weakness, and turned to face the things that needed to change.

A few seasons (and many steps) removed from the first moment I brushed aside the branches, I have come to appreciate the beauty of life’s barren “winters.” Life’s struggles force us to abandon the fluff with which we cushion our lives. As we watch the fluff fly away, we grab for the part of us that can hold fast and true as the cold winds of trial rage in our soul.

Though never pleasant, these times are also never dormant. The work of growth toils beneath the surface during these times. Grow we must; otherwise we are tossed away and crumble like just another dried leaf.

Because I turned toward what God revealed during that tough time, I now find His voice easier to hear. Standing on the ever-firmer foundation built within, I find peace closer at hand. And I find beauty in the barren landscape of leafless seasons.

I don’t want to tarry there; the first touch of a lighter, warmer day and scent of a new season draws my heart like the first spring flower reaching above the snow. But as I shake away the last tatters of what was, and leave behind the weakness that just doesn’t fit any more, I smile to think of the beauty that lies around every bend…no matter what tomorrow brings.