“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I’ve uttered those words countless times. To my best friend after his father took his own life. To a few moms and dads after their loss of a child. To a teammate of my teenage daughter whose dad didn’t survive an accident on his motorcycle. To a dear woman in our church whose husband was among those to lose his life during the pandemic.
I wish with all my heart that moments like these didn’t exist, but they are inescapable. Loss is a way of life in our broken world.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” I say those words sincerely, but they feel so inadequate. I want them to restore, renew, retrieve that which has slipped away—but they can’t. They can only convey shared sorrow and earnest sympathy; a willingness to enter the shadows with another. And yet, what a priceless gift that can be.
Each time I join someone in their grief, I’m reminded that the gift of my presence is actually a re-gifting. I’m only able to “mourn with those who mourn” because others—and more importantly, my suffering Savior—sat with me in my sadness.
We’re not meant to grieve alone. While each of us must ultimately work out our sadness with the Lord in our own hearts and minds, we desperately need to be surrounded by fellow sufferers who are acquainted with grief.
Paul celebrates this redemptive reality in his letter to the Church in Corinth: “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, ESV)
The obvious focus of these verses is on the concept of comfort. While that English word is endearing, the original intent is not what we might assume in terms of meaning. Yet, it is less significant in terms of impact.
Paul doesn’t speak so much of soothing or consoling here, but rather of fortifying with spiritual strength. Affliction can easily erode our resilience, but God supports and sustains his suffering servants through His presence and through that of others who have known His comfort in the valley of the shadow.
Here, comfort comes as the reassurance that our trials will not have the final word. They will, in fact, serve the glorious purpose of God’s redemptive work in our lives. They reveal both our faith and the faithfulness of our good Father, who holds us tenderly in his hands. That’s why we can confidently say with Paul: “I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39, ESV)
Contributed by: Monty Waldron
Reflection Song:
“Joy Will Come Again”
Lectio Divina (Optional: ~10-15 minutes)
On day 8, we focused on engaging scripture by writing it out by hand, highlighting notable sections, and inviting the Spirit to speak through the text. Today, we’re building on that by introducing a practice known as Lectio Divina—a method used for centuries by believers as a way to meditate on God’s Word. Far from being esoteric or distant from the Bible, this ancient and deeply orthodox practice helps us engage with Scripture in a more prayerful, thoughtful way by sitting with the Scriptures and focusing our hearts on God’s voice.
1. Lectio (Reading)
Begin by reading the passage slowly and attentively, perhaps multiple times. What word or phrase captures your heart? As you read, ask yourself: What is God saying in these verses about comfort? How does His comfort affect both our suffering and our ability to help others?
2 Corinthians 1:3–4 (CSB)
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, through the comfort we receive from God.”
2. Meditatio (Meditation)
Sit with the word or phrase that has drawn your attention. Allow God to speak through it in this present moment. If you are (or have been) in a season of deep sorrow, reflect on how the comfort of God—or the comfort offered by others—has touched you, even if only in small ways. If comfort feels distant, consider how God’s promise of His presence might be meeting you here, even in the quiet.
3. Oratio (Prayer)
Offer a prayer from where you are, whether that’s a place of peace or of profound pain. Speak honestly with God about the comfort you need in this moment, or about the comfort you’ve received. If the time comes, ask for the strength to extend that same love and care to someone else who might be suffering.
4. Contemplatio (Contemplation)
Finally, enter a time of quiet contemplation. Rest in the presence of God and simply be with Him, knowing that He is the God of all comfort. Let go of any burdens you may be carrying, allowing God’s peace to fill you. Reflect on how His comfort assures you that your trials will not have the final word, and rest in His tender care. You do not need to ask for anything in this moment; just sit in His presence and let His comfort surround you.