Comfort Zone

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Everybody needs comforting now and then. I think back to each of my children and remember how they consoled themselves with pacifiers, or a thumb, a special blanket, a stuffed animal.

Hans attached himself to a pale blue flannel blanket edged in satin, the perfect wrap for a fall baby. When he outgrew the need, I packed it away, a little worse for wear but still a serviceable blanket.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Hans was a daddy with his own comfort-seeking little ones. I passed along the blanket, and in my recent visit to England, got to see what happened to it. Two year old Thomas has bonded with it and lovingly named it MipMip.

The satin is long gone, and he’s literally loved it to pieces. (Think shreds.)

When Katy realized it was gradually disappearing, she took the larger part of it to her mum for creative reinforcement. Sarah used pieces of an old blue nightie to strengthen MipMip, cutting the last of it in two chunks, one to comfort and one to wash.

Whenever Thomas needs soothing, he calls for MipMip. At bedtime, it’s MipMip he cuddles. If life gets unfair, MipMip is the solution. He’s consistent in his devotion and trusts in his chosen comforter.

If only grown-up tensions could be as easily assuaged. Interestingly, though, when we call on God to comfort us, he always knows exactly how to deliver what we need. Maybe that’s why the Bible is such a big book, inviting us to thumb through its many pages to find relief there.

One of its most familiar passages, Psalm 23, describes a strange kind of comfort: “Your rod [Father], and your staff, they comfort me.” (v. 4) How can a rod and staff bring comfort? In other places in Scripture, a “rod” represents discipline: “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” But can discipline comfort?

I remember a “Little House” episode in which one of the young boys lied and cheated in school, secretly suffering emotionally afterwards. When he was finally exposed, his father said he’d have to punish him “with the strap” (i.e. rod). The boy said, “That’s ok. It’ll make me feel better.” We get that. Paying a proper price sets things right.

But what about a staff? A shepherd uses the crook at the end of it to pull wayward sheep back to him, just as God sometimes abruptly tugs us the same way. Being pulled that way doesn’t always feel good, but to be reunited with him brings comfort.

So, comfort comes in many forms, and of course Thomas’ MipMip is one of them. It’s important to note that if the larger chunks of his blanket can’t be located, one of the tiny shreds works almost as well. Thankfully, though, the Lord never skimps on comfort. He gives it in abundance:

“As we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.” (2 Corinthians 1:5)

Say it well.

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Years ago when my sister Mary and I were visiting Sweden, we launched out from our hostess’ home (in a borrowed car) to buy souvenirs. Hours later, when heading back, we got disoriented… and completely lost.

Road signs were in Swedish (duh), and we couldn’t read them. We had no phone and only vague knowledge of an address, and at a gas station the attendant couldn’t understand our questions. Two frustrating hours passed, and through the process of systematically trying every exit and every turn, we finally found our way back. If only we’d had a translator.

This morning I was wondering if Nate needs a translator in paradise. How presumptuous to think he’s speaking English, yet maybe he is. Scripture says those gathered there will be in groups representing every earthly language. (Revelation 7:9) So how will we understand each other?

Maybe as we voice our native tongues, each listener will instinctively understand other languages like a computer effortlessly translates foreign sentences. If that’s true, Nate is still speaking English. Or maybe he’s having fun trying out his college Russian.

A more tidy explanation, though, might be that God will put a new language into our heads and mouths, something supernaturally provided. I do know he’ll use words as a tool to promote togetherness rather than division, since family unity is important.

I love words, and I love putting them together, taking thoughts that are floating around and pinning them to blank paper with ink. My satisfaction in creating word pictures and stories is much like a puzzler enjoying the process of assembling 1000 pieces without ever looking at the box-picture.

But language can also be a barrier. Missionaries and diplomats overcome this by partnering with interpreters, people who know two languages and serve as a link between them.

Louisa, Birgitta, and I have supported a little girl who lives in India since she was 3 years old. Her name is Jayanti, and she’s now a pretty teenager of 15… who speaks no English. Every few weeks we receive a hand-written letter from her, along with a typed translation from an interpreter. We stare at Jayanti’s swirly script and can’t make heads or tails out of it. Without the accompanying translation, we wouldn’t be able to have a relationship with her at all. And of course our mail back to her also needs interpretation. The best we can hope for is that those translating at both ends are skilled and honest.

As for Nate, whether he’s speaking English or something else, he’s in the presence of a keenly skilled, flawlessly honest Interpreter, who fluently speaks and understands every one of the 6000+ languages that exist. Thankfully, that means he completely understands those of us still on the earth. Though we might get confused, he never does.

“By your blood [Jesus] you ransomed people for God from every… language.” (Revelation 5:9)

Look!

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Jet lag is an odd thing. When our plane was half way across the Atlantic I decided to set my watch for Chicago time so I’d know how much longer I’d have to sit in that tiny seat. After moving it forward 6 hours, I thought “Wow! I napped longer than I thought. We’re almost there!”

But I’d mistakenly set it 6 hours in the wrong direction. So, after undoing my 6 forward hours and adding 6 backward ones for an accurate time change, it turned out we’d barely left Ireland behind.

Once at home, adjusting to the time change was rocky. The first morning I awoke at 2:30 am Michigan time and coaxed myself back to sleep. Then it was 4:20, and I told myself, “Get one more hour.” But 5:05 was the best I could do (10:05 UK time). The sad part was that my body thought I’d slept in.

By 7:00 I’d unpacked, started the laundry, had an extended prayer time, answered emails, and caught up on my reading. It was still dark. Weather.com  told me the sun would rise at 7:20, so I decided to walk to the beach.

We live on Lake Michigan’s east side looking toward the west and are used to nightly sunsets, but in 66 years of coming to this same beach, I don’t ever remember seeing a sunrise. As I arrived, a twilight blue was developing over the dune, dominated by fast-moving grey clouds.

My winter coat felt good, and I pulled the hood on against a stiff wind. Facing the dunes toward the east I anticipated a spectacular sunrise because of the clouds, so camera-in-hand, I stood watching and waiting.

And waiting.

Though the sky lightened, the clouds didn’t. Eventually, pencil lines of gold etched their tops, but not even enough to show in a picture. I knew that eventually the sky would just have to be ablaze with color, so still facing east, I waited some more. Twenty minutes went by, and daylight began to take over the beach. But the eastern sky remained lifeless.

Growing impatient, I turned around toward the water, and here’s what I saw…

While I’d been focused on the clouds above the east side dune, a light show had been going on behind me in the west, but who would expect a sunrise from that direction? The heavens were telling their story in a 180, at least on that morning.

What a perfect parallel to the surprising work God does. While looking at stormy, dark circumstances, we watch faithfully for God’s light to break through. We don’t doubt it will, but get impatient if it takes too long.

But when we decide to turn away from the darkness and actively search for him and his work, we’re bowled over by what we see. He was there all the time, but we’d just been looking in the wrong direction.

“Lord, you are my God; I will exalt you and praise your name, for in perfect faithfulness you have done wonderful things, things planned long ago.” (Isaiah 25:1)