Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. – Isaiah 40:1


There’s a comfort
that enshrouds the living
in the illusion of safety,
swaddled in excess, removed
from exposure, bundled
like that boy in A Christmas Story,
unable to move or effect much at all;
a comfort that leads to sleep that is a living

Then, also, there is the comfort
that comes as a balm, soothing ointment
spread across the gaping wound.  Comfort
like a gentle voice that knows your name and speaks
it even in the storm of anxiety and fear.  Comfort
that sees your sin for what it is and bears its cost
like a weight lifted from your back.  Comfort like water
for the thirsty, bread for the hungry, rest for the weary,
freedom for the oppressed.  Comfort that restores fullness of

The difference,
lies in the willingness
to be disturbed,
and weak.

May you know thirst and hunger this Advent.

May you feel the raw winds of exposure, the ache
of your own depletion.

May the darkness of this world

overwhelm you, laying bare the illusions of all that is false
within and around you.

May the emptiness, loneliness and longing
that is spaciousness and freedom rise up around you until
you’re able to hear the words of the prophet as they were spoken.

May you know discomfort that you might receive with joy,

the God of all Comfort. 

This post is linked with Playdates with God.

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