You've doubtless noticed that in my grief over losing my precious Daddy to cancer, I've been less prolific in my writing to you in the last several months. It's not because I don't think of you or even pray for you often; Rather, I suppose it's that I feel less qualified than ever to offer words that will provide meaningful comfort. Many days, in fact, I feel depleted and even detached from the comfort I'd so wish to offer to you.
Yet, many godly friends -- and most of all many forays into the Word -- have provided brief glimpses of comfort to me. So, that is all I have to share with you. Fragments and moments of comfort from the God of all comfort.
Today in my devotions I read a Psalm -- and at once it reminded me that the God of the Word knows exactly what you and I are feeling in the difficult days of caregiving, of loss, of disappointment and frustration. He's heard it all before from His faithful followers down through the generations. But when He hears it from us, He is no less faithful to answer than He's always been to each one who calls.
The Psalm that brought this epiphany is number 6, a psalm of David, on stringed instruments no less. (As a violinist, I do seem to pay special attention to the stringed-instrument songs!)
Here are the verses that expressed what I've been having trouble putting into words:
Psalm 6:6-9 (ESV)
6 I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping. 7 My eye wastes away because of grief; it grows weak because of all my foes. ... 9 The LORD has heard my plea; the LORD accepts my prayer.
David the poet describes what I could not ... in word pictures more familiar to my experience in these days than I'd wish you to know.
Yet, over the course of just a few verses, David turns a corner. He reminds himself -- and us -- that weeping is not the end of all things for the believer. It is a part of our experience, certainly. But not the whole experience.
What is the whole truth he wants us to remember? It's that Someone greater than our tears stands near. We serve a God Who knows, a God Who understands, a God Who weeps with us, a God Who hears our pleas and accepts our prayers. In days when grief and exhaustion strip us bare of anything else, we can still be sure of this amazing fact. The God of the universe is near to the brokenhearted. He listens to us, and He holds us near to His heart.
I pray you find this truth as uplifting as I have today. I offer you the comfort I've received -- I can do no more; I will do no less.
Blessings and prayers,
© 2013, Julie-Allyson Ieron. All rights reserved. For reprint permission, email: firstname.lastname@example.org