Comfort Cycle

 “He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.” -2 Corinthians 1:4

Thus prayed Rachel as I blew snot into a tissue, crumpled it, and threw it on the heaped pile. Earlier that night, I’d accepted an invitation to attend a home group of our sister church. I knew several people there, so I thought, “Why not? Sounds like fun.”

Which it was, until the ending prayer time. The home group had nearly burst the seams of the living room it occupied, and the leaders were planning to slice it into two smaller groups to foster closer relationships. “Let’s pray for this time of splitting,” they suggested.

Determined tears squeezed their way out of my surprised eyes. I took off my glasses and wiped the silent water away. But Becky, from her piano-bench vantage point, stood, grabbed a thick wedge of tissues, and handed them to me. Given permission to cry, my body crunched in little spasms of emotional pain, while my brain tried to shush them so the others, still praying quietly, wouldn’t notice.

After the prayer had finished, Becky leaned over, “Do you want to talk about why you’re crying? Or would you prefer just to cry?”

My mind plumbed for an answer. It slowly floated to the surface of my thought. “Well, three years ago, my own home group had to split. I left for a year in China shortly afterward, and by the time I returned to Colorado, maybe only ten of the original forty members were still at our church.”

“I’m so sorry. Have you been able to share that pain with someone you trust and grieve through it?”

I laughed painfully. “Apparently not.”

By this time, both Rachel and Emily had joined our little group, and Becky suggested they all pray for me, which they did, while tears, snot, and stifled cries fought each other to escape my body.

I didn’t process the prayers much (hopefully God caught the words), except for noting the verse Rachel quoted and finding it interesting. They finished. “Thanks, guys. I’ve got to go. I’m late for a meeting with a friend,” I excused myself.

I arrived at my friend’s new apartment, gingerly stepping through a maze of moving boxes to locate her couch. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when she shared the pain she was going through, when she cried, or when I felt God’s peace as I wrapped sympathetic arms around her.

It turns out Paul knew what he was talking about.