elizabeth hamilton

“Comfort, comfort my people,” says God. He’s speaking to the prophet Isaiah, telling him to comfort the people of Israel, but he’s also speaking words of comfort to us.

The words settle in my heart. Yes. Yes. That’s what I needed to hear: words of comfort.

How many of the people in my life need to hear these words, too? Sometimes, I hate how lonely the world can be. So many of the people I love are scattered across the country, from the west coast to the eastern shore. I talk to them on Skype; I snapchat them; I Gchat and text them; I email and Facebook message with them. But none of that is ever enough.

A new friend in Dallas tells me that human touch lowers the blood pressure, and I can see why so many people in this country have high blood pressure. So many of us are lonely. So many are weary and unsure about the future, just like I am. So many are tired and cranky and fed up.

“Comfort,” says God.

In some ways, I can’t help feeling like the word is a slap in the face.

“Ok, God, fine. Comfort. Fine. But how exactly are you comforting me, huh? Give me tangible evidence of it. Smooth out these wrinkles, close these rifts. For heaven’s sake, won’t you?”

He does. In time.

In time, the world’s groaning will cease and all will be restored.

That’s the hope we have. That’s the reason behind the words of comfort.

In the meantime, I hold that word in my heart, let it soak into the crusty exterior and warm me from the inside, like a hot drink.

“Comfort,” says God.

“Ok.”

“Comfort my people.”

Tagged: Advent