When We're the Comforter
It grieves me to say, but, as a Christian, I can be pretty assuming about someone else's hurt.
I think they hurt because they were foolish.
Because they were asking for it.
Because they made a poor choice.
Because they don't have Jesus so they can't live well anyway or they don't follow Jesus closely enough.
I'm pretty terrible.
I'm pretty assuming.
When I assume I know the source, the remedy, the depth, and the detail of someone else's hurt, I judge and my judgment destroys my ability to love and comfort.
Likewise, when I sense someone making assumptions about me and my pain, I'm not open to them anymore.
I'm not open to their wisdom, healing, or love.
I hope I'm speaking for more of us when I say that I don't want my grief to be judged before it's explained and understood. And I don't want to judge, but I want to love, when I'm the comforter.
So here are some thoughts for when we're the comforter.
1. Recognize and respect the sufferer's feeling of hopelessness.
When I'm suffering, like really, really suffering, I don't want to hear about hope.
The reason I'm suffering in the first place is because I believe that hope in a certain area of my life is no longer an option for me.
A false belief, but a real one nonetheless.
When I'm suffering, the last thing I want to hear is:
"It will get better."
"Healing takes time."
"You'll be able to move on eventually."
"Just don't think about it."
"Calm down and look at the bright side."
Or any version of "look at the future not the now."
In the mind of the sufferer, the hope of tomorrow can't heal the pain of today.
Hopelessness is a real emotion that needs to be respected.
Real talk here: when I'm really in the pits, I even get angry at the Bible for telling me to hope for Heaven; to wait eagerly for Christ's return; to trust in the good work that the Lord will work through my hurt.
I won't be in Heaven today.
Christ isn't coming back today.
That good work won't happen today.
I might not make it through today.
Honestly, I'm still working through why "things of the future" are comforting to me "today."
But as the comforter, know that the Bible doesn't just give hope as a comfort: it gives beliefs that provide immediate solace.
The belief that Jesus loves you in this moment.
The belief that He exists in this moment.
The belief that He weeps in the moments we weep.
The belief that the Comforter lives inside us in this moment.
When hope fails to comfort, beliefs are our comfort.
If you find yourself as the comforter, acknowledge the sufferer's hopelessness, respect it, and don't minimize it. Believing in hope is something that needs to be rebuilt, but, before the rebuilding starts, help them accept their hopelessness by affirming its legitimacy and remind them of what they believe.
2. Recognize the difference between a question and a plea.
It's hard to think straight about anything when things go awry. Often, the one suffering might not know exactly what makes them most upset, what they are feeling, or how to fix it.
When our brain can't read what our emotions are trying to say, that confusion is often manifested in non sequitor speech. Meaning, ideas and feelings might not match up logically or they might change rapidly and without warning (day to day, hour to hour...).
As the comforter, it's important to help the sufferer work through what he is actually feeling and why. If you're hit with this non sequitor speech, discover what unsaid questions the person may be trying to ask or what emotions just need to be understood rather than advised.
One of the most painful things to be faced with when seeking comfort, is hearing advice when you want to be understood and being understood when you just want advice.
As the comforter, listen in order to heal.
3. Don't tell them what they need to do.
As soon as the comforter starts directing the sufferer's life and choices, the comforter has taken on a responsibility too large to handle and placed the sufferer in a place where he think he isn't allowed to trust himself.
Respect the sufferer's abiltiy (however limited at the moment) to reason and help them work towards a solution rather than declaring one for them.
4. Cry with them.
You don't have to literally cry.
What I mean is, let your heart be affected as theirs has been affected.
Indulge in their anger, their sorrow, their confusion, their hopelessness. Don't sit formulating what advice you'll give or how they "should" be responding to the situation.
Even if you can't feel the intensity of the pain they feel, you will find that your ability to empathize (as opposed to sympathy) will feed your ability to love.
Empathy is actually feeling what the other person is feeling based on your own experience or the work of the Holy Spirit in your heart. Basic grief experience and letting the Holy Spirit shape you will provide that sensitive heart.
Sympathy is imagining the hurt of the sufferer and expressing condolence without necessarily having a heavy heart.
You'll find that the gift of emphathy will grow through life and that you can empathize more with those you're closest with.
Whenever you can empathize, do. Even if it means you literally cry.
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The last thing I want to say about comfort has to do with Chrsitians' views of emotions.
We've been taught since childhood that our feelings are deceptive; they won't line up with what God wants; we can't trust them to guide our life.
Sadly, these teachings have translated into the thinking that we only need to understand what we should feel instead of what we do feel naturally.
Yet, prohibiting ourselves from witnessing and accepting what our natural feelings are hinders the Holy Spirit from conforming them to Christ's likeness.
As the editor of this post and a dear friend of mine said, "The feeling isn't the choice, the choice is what we do with the feeling." Will we surrender our sorrow or wallow in it? Will we ask God to handle our rage or will we strengthen it?
Accepting what we naturally feel is important because we can't expect to move towards holiness before we understand what we are walking away from.
Ignoring our intense worry because we aren't supposed to worry isn't gaining divine peace: it's numbing.
Ignoring that we fear because we aren't supposed to fear isn't practicing trust: it's hiding.
Ignoring that we have selflish anger because we aren't supposed to be angry isn't practising patience: it's covering up.
Ignoring what's sinful inside of us isn't conforming to holiness: it's fake.
Peace, trust, and patience won't truly intervene unless we understand which sins they are replacing.
James 1:19-21, "So then, my beloved, brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath; for the wrath of man does not produce the righteousness of God. Therefore, lay aside all filthiness and overflow of wickedness, and receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls."
Let's not forget that in order to lay aside our filth and receive truth we must first hold the sin in our hands and choose to make room for holiness instead.
So, let's not deny people their right to feel when we're the comforter.
Let's walk with others in love and not in judgement as the sufferer explores the truth of hope again.