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 affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. (Psalm 23:4)
“Comfort, yes, comfort My people!” says your God. (Isaiah 40:1)
Is there a difference between safety and comfort? Most of us would instinctively say yes. Safety does not guarantee comfort. And comfort does not guarantee safety.
In the life of faith and in our experience of church, safety is a priority. The openness and vulnerability that allows us to grow in faith and participate in community requires that we feel safe enough to be open and vulnerable. But safety, once assured, does not lead directly to comfort.
Growth is usually uncomfortable when it is happening.
Being with those who share some things in common, but who also diverge in the ways they express their faith, see the world, or vote, rarely feels comfortable.
Learning new things – about the world or about ourselves – does not feel comfortable for a good long time.
While each of the three scripture texts we cited promises “comfort,” each carries its own uncomfortable implications.
In 2 Corinthians, we are comforted by God in our affliction, so that we may turn to those afflicted and be with them – and comfort them – in their hardship.
Psalm 23 assures us of God’s comfort while we are walking through the valley of the shadow of death.
Isaiah 40 opens with a great cry of comfort, only to be followed two verses later with a proclamation that the crooked will be made straight. Unbending what is crooked – in our life or in our world – is a painful, uncomfortable process. Such is the calling of the Christian faith.
Which leads us to an approach to ministry in this season that depends on the safety churches can assure, while inviting us all to be a little less comfortable in that safety. Let’s call it “discomforting curiosity.”
There is a lot of mutual dismay and disregard in our society right now, reflecting deep divisions within families, among fellow citizens and neighbors, and in communities of faith. “I just don’t understand how any sane person could…” starts many a sentence – and you can fill in whatever comes next.
What will break this cycle of suspicion, enmity, and antagonism? No one church and no one church board can take it all on. But there are ways to make a difference, by building on the safety that a congregation can at its best provide, and at the same time embracing discomforting curiosity about the way that other people think – including people in our own church, family, neighborhood, and society.
This kind of curiosity can be painful. But it can also lead to growth and direct us toward one of the true aims of Christian community: “so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
What is the relationship between safety and comfort in your own life? Can you think of a time in your life when you were comfortable but not safe?
How about a time when safety allowed you to be uncomfortable? What happened as a result?
What do you make of God’s comfort in 2 Corinthians? How are comfort and affliction related in this passage?
Can you think of times that your congregation has practiced discomforting curiosity? What happened?
How might you practice discomforting curiosity at your very next church board meeting?
No Comments