The Comforter

Next week, we will return to Out of the Dark, Into the Light series.

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My sister, Jenn, is six years younger than me. After she was born, when mom and dad moved her upstairs to my room, she cried and cried. That first night, six or seven-year old me (mom swears she had to have been older, but I remember her still tiny) picked her up and placed her in my bed. I was a shy girl with keen ears, and I listened to everything the adults said. I knew, for example, that people had rolled over onto babies in their sleep and accidentally smothered them. So I held her carefully in my bed, tucked her close but not too close to me, and she quieted right away. She pretty much slept with me every night from then on until I left the house and went to college. We had moments of our “own” rooms, but it always ended in sharing a bed or moving two beds into one room. At any rate, we were most always together at night.

We grew up in the country, in a small house, but our bedrooms were large enough to hold two full size beds with a little wiggle room between the walls. We had simple country furnishings. My mom, when I was little and my sister was not yet born, collected antiques, and so our beds were beautiful framed old timey antiques. The walls were beige, keeping the same color they were painted when the house was built.  The decorations were minimal – two needlework pictures – one of a mom and her daughter that my dad sewed, and one of a pink kitty cat my mom did that now hangs in my daughters’ bedroom on occasion. Growing up, my sister and I never slept under sheets. We had this old worn out comforter than I had gotten when we lived in an apartment in Anniston before Jenn was born. It was beige, soft, and snugly, and we held it close to our faces and even fought over who would sleep under it if ever apart. When the beds were in the room, we used it to bridge the space between the beds, and the area underneath was a fort. There was never a better fort than the one we had as kids. My mom let us hang onto the comforter longer than she wanted us to because we begged her never to replace it or throw it away.

I was never one for wanting to grow up. It was easy for me to roll back time and pretend to be six years younger and the same age as my sister. When her bed was moved out, and I was becoming a dreaded teenager, my parents bought me a new dresser, replacing an old, hard to use, antique one; I was excited and dismayed because the forts went away, but it was evidence of the change in who I was becoming. I still slept with the comforter though, but I left it behind for my sister when I went to college.

I hadn’t thought about my comforter until I listened to a sermon about the Holy Spirit recently. As I listened, I immediately thought of my comforter, and of my sweet little Lisabeth who takes her blankie everywhere she can. She holds it to her face, sucks her tongue, and it comforts her. Sometimes, her lovey is better than me or her daddy. It calms her.

As an adult, I have wanted all kinds of comforters. I have sought solace in food, in friendships, in marriage, in children, in other people, in things, in books. I have conceived in my mind that if only my father had not died when he did, and so on and so on. I have grieved relationships that are not as they should be and or hoped for because I have wanted to be comforted when none could be given.

Today, I sat in church and cried the whole time, my heart pricked by the Holy Spirit. Not to speak ill of any changes going on, but there are a lot of familiar comforts changing in my church right now, and to be honest with you as a reader, I have felt yanked around a lot. Although, I cried simply because God was speaking to me. Today’s message was on sending – that we should be a church culture who sends. I say that I would jump on a plane and go today, but a miracle would be required for that, and I wonder – what would I really do?

Despite our deepest, darkest hurts, we have a Comforter – a never leaving, never changing, always beside me, Comforter, and He holds my hand, and hugs me deep. I lean into Him, and let Him hold me close, and comfort in the way that only He does. I know He is doing a new thing, and I cling to Him despite where I end up, and how discomforting the process seems to be.

I have God the Holy Spirit as my Helper, my best Friend, and My always near God. He is my Comforter, my Counselor, my Deposit, the Author of Truth, my Guide, my Intercessor, my Teacher, and my Witness. I am never alone for He is always by my side, better than my comforter of long ago, better than Libby’s blankie, closer than a brother, or even a sister. 😉 (love you, Jenn!)

Holy Spirit, be there one or many that read these words and need your comfort, I pray they would seek you and find your loving arms today. May he or she be comforted and counseled and never alone in your presence. Give them the hope only you give. Amen.

So let me say it again, this truth: It’s better for you that I leave. If I don’t leave, the Friend won’t come. But if I go, I’ll send him to you. “When he comes, he’ll expose the error of the godless world’s view of sin, righteousness, and judgment: He’ll show them that their refusal to believe in me is their basic sin; that righteousness comes from above, where I am with the Father, out of their sight and control; that judgment takes place as the ruler of this godless world is brought to trial and convicted. -John 16:7-11 (The Message)

How may I pray for you on your journey today?

Linking with Michelle for Hear it Sunday, Use it on Monday, and Laura for Playdates with God.