“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
A grievous thing happened: he died.
It hurt so much, but I tried not to cry. I wanted to be strong so that others could rely on me. I guess somehow, in my pain and confusion, I didn’t realise that it’s only God who can give real comfort. And the way He can effectively use me to help others is if I first let Him be my Comfort.
My composure was so fragile that all it took was a simple, caring question, “How are you…?,” and the floods were let loose. I cried…I really cried. Maybe not as long as I should have, but I let myself feel the pain for the first time. The strange thing is, it was then that I began to heal.
I know that healing takes time—especially when it concerns a loved one’s death—but most times, learning to grieve is an essential step in that process. It’s been three years now; I have cried some more and hurt some more, but I have also been a shoulder for others to cry on. And together, we are making progress on that sometimes-long journey towards wholeness.
Be a comfort to someone else today: give them a hug, and maybe, if it’s necessary, a kind and encouraging word may be in order. But also very importantly, learn to let go of the pain, not by grieving in self-pity and hopelessness as some may want to do, but you can shed your tears in faith, believing that God is and that His Word is true.
I believe that I will see him again—in much better circumstances.
From The Second Letter of Paul to the Corinthians 1:3-4 (NKJV).