Comfort in Times of Trouble
I really love a cup of Yorkshire Tea. I only buy Yorkshire Tea (other brands are available) and I have persuaded at least my immediate family in Scotland that Yorkshire Tea is really the best brew in the land. When I go on holiday I miss Yorkshire Tea, and when I get home the first thing I do is put the kettle on and get a Yorkshire Tea bag in my favourite mug. When I think about it, there are very few circumstances in life that aren’t made even just a tiny bit better by the presence of a cuppa. Sure, my cup of tea doesn’t ask me how I’m doing, tidy the house or run me a bath — but it is a familiar constant in my life that gives me comfort; a moment to get my head right, to get my thoughts in order, to regroup so I can start again.
Now I know having a cup of tea is not everyone’s idea of comfort. Perhaps you are shaking your head as you read in pity. What’s the thing that brings you comfort after a long hard day? Your favourite pyjamas? The spot on the couch where your feet reach the coffee table? A radio station on the drive home? Re-runs of an old favourite TV show? The comfort these things bring is a welcome relief, moments of bliss that we treasure and look forward to. But let’s be honest, despite the reassurance from these familiar constants, the comfort they bring can sometimes amount to little more than a temporary distraction, just a passing moment. Are the circumstances of life really comforted by our comforts?
Sadly, there are times when even the best of comforts don’t drown out the depth of life’s toughest circumstances.
There are griefs that consume to the point of overtaking. The death of someone we love; betrayal by someone we trust; loss when we felt certain to gain; rejection when we felt sure of acceptance. Momentary comforts in these times just don’t quite cut it. The fullness of tough circumstances swamp you and it’s in these kind of times it’s actually appropriate to dwell in the melancholy rather than be distracted from it. There are griefs that dwell with us sometimes for a season, sometimes for life. But even here, dwelling in melancholy, swamped in life, we still long for comfort — it’s just a different kind of comfort.
Thankfully, these times in life for me have not been my norm, but they have come, and I’ve seen them in others. This may not be true for everyone, but I’ve noticed a few features of the kind of comfort we look for in the tough times. In the tough times we don’t want comfort that’s fleeting; we don’t want comfort that is glib and superficial; we don’t want comfort that gives reassurance with no substance (“it’ll be alright”); and we don’t want comfort that tells us it could be worse (“look on the bright side”). These are moments of comfort but they blow away too quickly.
We need comfort that lasts longer than a distraction.
When times of trouble dwell with us, we need comfort that dwells with us too. This kind of comfort can be from a friend who stays through the tough times with you. The friend who sits alongside you, who puts an arm round you, who holds your hand, who shares the load. It comes from a friend that brings comfort by saying nothing at all, but when they do speak they direct you to a story bigger than you or I. The friend that brings comfort not from wishful thinking, but from a hope that is certain. This kind of comfort is so important in the troubled times, it can save a life.
Comfort in the troubled times isn’t distracting, it’s sustaining.
Our new series starting this Sunday will be looking at 2 Corinthians. It’s a letter written to a church in Corinth who knew the tough times in life, written by Paul who knew the tough times in life. Yet the first chapter reminds the church that God is a God of all comfort. Have you ever thought about the kind of comfort God brings? The chapter describes God’s comfort as ‘coming alongside’. This is not a temporary thing, it’s the kind of comfort that keeps you going. In Jesus we see this great picture of God’s comfort. God leaves heaven’s glories that he might journey with us, come alongside us. God isn’t sat across the table instructing us on comfort; he’s sat right beside us with his arm round, taking the load, sustaining.
It seems quite cosy doesn’t it? God the comforter, sitting by our side. Like a nice bedtime story for the Corinthians and us. But our series in 2 Corinthians is far from a cosy bedtime story. There’s even more to God’s comfort — he comforts in his authority, in his strength, in defeating his enemy, in his power! Not words that you’d normally associate with comfort. Makes you think though… what really is comfort? What does God’s comfort look like? How am I comforted? Tune in on Sundays, Live at 5, to find out more…
Judith Gibson, Pastoral Assistant
