Tag: comfort

Relief = Happy? Maybe Not – What You REALLY Need Instead

Photo by Matteo Vistocco on Unsplash

We humans can be so short-sighted. 

In a challenging situation or a season of suffering or hardship, all we care about is obtaining relief – and we think that if the challenge were to be removed, suddenly everything would be great. We would be so happy! 

But is that true? 

Exodus 17:1-7, written by Moses, tells about a time when the people of Israel camp in the wilderness at a location called Rephidim. “At the Lord’s command,” the text declares emphatically.

So what’s the problem? 

There was no water at Rephidim. 

For a large community of people, children, and animals, that’s a big problem.

Please note that these are the exact same people who saw the terrors of the ten plagues in Egypt and then the parting of the Red Sea only a few weeks prior. These folks saw the hand of God move mightily on their behalf, and have been following the moving pillars of cloud and fire – physical manifestations of God’s guidance – through the wilderness.

So with this new challenge, what do they do? They quickly turn in angry complaints to Moses, demanding for him to give them water.

Moses warns them to be quiet – clearly wanting them to respectfully ask and patiently wait to see the provision of God (as he had done so powerfully before), and reminds them not to test God.

But when they continue to feel the torment of strong thirst – they not only continue to argue but they attribute Moses (and therefore God, who is directing him) with harmful, hateful intent, saying “Why did you bring us out of Egypt? Are you trying to kill us, our children and our livestock with thirst?” (Exodus 17: 3)

Their discomfort and suffering completely overwhelmed them – all they could focus on was their current misery and how it would vanish with what they craved – water. 

The beleaguered Moses cries out to God asking what to do – and God tells him. “Walk out in front of the people. They accused me publicly, they will be answered publicly. Take the same staff that struck the Nile and turned water to blood – and bring some of the elders to join you. I will stand before you on the rock at Mount Sinai. Strike the rock, and the water will come gushing out – and then the people will be able to drink.” (Exodus 17: 5-6, my paraphrase)

Did you see that? 

God himself would stand on the rock that would gush out water. 

Why? 

Because what the people needed more than water was the Presence of God.

In our own ongoing struggles, the challenges and sufferings of life in a sin-darkened world, it is so very easy to be forgetful of what we know to be true.

God is always and has always been faithful, AND it is by his direct guidance that we are exactly where we are in this place of lack or suffering or hardship.

Therefore it means we are to stop blaming other people, stop accusing God of harmful intent or careless indifference, and smash our idols of perceived comfort and relief.

Because what we need most, no matter how much we crave other things, is not relief from the suffering – it is HIMSELF.

David wrote Psalm 63 during his own time in the wilderness – I encourage you to pull out a Bible and pray this Psalm for yourself, asking the Spirit to make it genuinely true for your heart: 

“Oh God, you are my God; I earnestly search for you. My soul thirsts for you; my whole body longs for you in this parched and weary land where there is no water…  Your unfailing love is better than life itself; how I praise you!” (Psalm 63:1,3)

May we be a people who can sing this up to him in truth – even in a wilderness of no water and with suffering – that we find our God and his love better than life itself.

Wear your crown, carry your sword. – Maria

*(This post was inspired by John Piper’s excellent sermon “Water from the Rock for Undeserving People” from August 11, 2022, found here.)

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How to Best Hold Your Broken Heart

Photo by Liv Bruce from Unsplash.

Today my heart feels broken.

A friend I love is facing an agony of loss. In joining her in her grief, my own heart is heavy and sorrowful. There have been many prayers and many, many more tears. 

And as I think of this friend in her particular pain, more loved ones come to mind who are grappling with their own unique weight of sorrow, loss, or grief.

Each precious person carries such a heavy load – unable to be measured adequately or fully comprehended except by the bearer. I feel so helpless and unable to lighten their weight, even as I take some of their sorrow to carry in my heart alongside them.

So what do we do to find hope in the dark? How do we find strength when the pain and anguish seem like the only real things and the world spins on, heedless and indifferent? What perspective should we hold to enable us to move forward?

Years ago, I read a strange and beautiful short story which I have never forgotten, and which I share an adapted excerpt from here, in the hope that it will help answer the above question.

As a brief introduction, a young wife has just delivered her first baby, who is unexpectedly stillborn. This is a great loss to both herself and her husband, who had both been eagerly anticipating the birth of their son.  

In this scene, the wife has been lying in bed, grieving and weeping over her baby, and thinking a great deal. She then unexpectedly prays the following prayer to God:

“O God, if you will not let me be a mother, I have one refuge: I will go back and be a child: I will be your child more than ever. My mother-heart will find relief in childhood towards its Father. 

“For is it not the same nature that makes the true mother and the true child? Is it not the same thought blossoming upward and blossoming downward? So there is God the Father and God the Son.

“You will keep my little son for me. He has gone home to be nurtured for me. And when I grow well, I will be more simple, and truthful, and joyful in your sight.

“And now you are taking away my child, my delight from me. But I think how pleased I should be, if I had a daughter, and she loved me so well that she only smiled when I took her plaything from her.

“Oh! I will not disappoint you – you shall have your joy. Here I am, do with me what you will; I will only smile.”*

This woman’s prayer is no bitter spurt of cynicism or anger.

She is not being weak in her acceptance of her loss, nor does she minimize the pain or depth of it. With courage she chooses an unusual perspective, but one in which she senses the thrum of a Truth far greater than herself:

She knows herself to be a dearly loved little girl who is under the care of a wise and trustworthy Parent, One in Whom she can trust even when she doesn’t understand why she is experiencing loss or pain. 

This kind of trust is terrible and terrifying to us who have become adults and enjoy the [seeming] security of independence and self-reliance. But implicitly loving, joyful trust is natural to a young child, especially one who has utter confidence in the kindness and ultimately good purpose of their parent. 

When they experience pain or sadness, a little child finds comfort in the shelter of their parent’s arms – even if the pain is not ended or the sadness is not stopped. It is enough to rest there, knowing they are held and loved.

In our grief, in our feelings of lonely sorrow, we can find solace knowing that our Father not only understands, He is able to relate well: “He was despised and rejected— a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care.” (Isaiah 53:3, NLT) 

Our part then, is to humble ourselves as little children. Choosing to place ourselves, our lives, and even our loved ones under His care, we are called to  the courageous place of behaving as a little son or daughter should to their loving Mommy or Daddy. (Matthew 18:1-4) 

Without negating any of the anguish we feel, and truthfully acknowledging our loss and sorrow, we can look up at Him through our tears and, with open hands, offer up what was a gift from Him in the first place.

And each step, each breath, each moment afterward, we can walk in our journey through our grief knowing that He is right there holding us up, walking with us, tenderly caring about us and the hurts we carry in our broken hearts.

“ God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others.”

2 Corinthians 1:3-4, NLT

Are you carrying a grief in this season? I would be honored if you share it with me by replying below. I read every response, and I will pray for you.

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*Adapted exerpt from Birth, Dreaming, Death – The Schoolmaster’s Story from The Gray Wolf and Other Stories, by George MacDonald. Emphases mine.