The Rod and Staff That Comfort
It has recently struck me that many of us – if not all of us – are carrying more emotional burdens than we make plain to those around us. I think this has always been true, but in the last few weeks, and for whatever reason, the weight of some of these concerns has become more visible to me than it was.
In worship on September 14, we handed out prayer cards for people to fill out and then bring to the front during the prayer time. Both Pastor Karl and I were surprised at how quickly people in worship got up with their prayers written on the cards. When I took the cards down the following Monday, I sorted through them to see which ones I should include on the prayer email, I was struck at how much heartache was poured out on those cards. There were prayers for family, friends and health challenges; for reliable transportation, for our country, for healing, and for relief from a pain; for broken hearts, for people grieving a loss, and hopes for peace – in the world and in hearts; the list could go on and on.
We heard the 23rd Psalm this past week in service as part of the scripture reading. What stands out to me is the line, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me.” While that is comforting to read, sometimes I think we long for something more immediate and tangible.
Scripture may guide us and give us comfort, but it doesn’t usually have the same physiological response as a hug from a dear one. But I think that is where we come in – you and me. We get to be “God with skin on” and offer a hug, a shoulder, a or tissue; we drop the card in the mail or text in the phone; we partner with God to care for one another in all the ways we know how even if all we can do is agree by saying, “Yes, this is a heavy thing you are carrying right now.” We can be the rod and staff that comfort.
It's not lost on me that the Psalmist doesn’t add, “And even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, God rescues me and takes away all the challenges I face.” As much as we wish God would pluck us out of difficult times, it doesn’t seem to work that way. But we know that God is always with us. In Matthew 28:20, after Jesus has been resurrected, Jesus says to the disciples who are a little worried about him going away again, “And remember, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
A few days ago, I got a card in the mail that said, “Friends are God’s way of taking care of us.” Indeed, I think that is true but only if we are those friends to one another. So, may we remember that the burdens we each carry are not often visible. May we take the time to be kind to one another, because unkindness only adds to those burdens. And when one of those burdens comes in to focus, may we be like Jesus and comfort one another in whatever ways we can.
