| The Ministry of Comfort |
Chapter 8 |
Page 5 |
No doubt thousands of other friends of Jesus in bereavement have wished that He would comfort them in like manner, by giving back their beloved. Ofttimes He does what is in effect the same – in answer to the prayer of faith He spares the lives of those who are dear and who seem about to be taken away. When we pray for the recovery of our friends who are sick, our prayer, if we pray acceptably, always ends with, “Not my will, but Thine, be done.” Even the most passionate longing of our affection we subdue in the quiet confidence of faith. If it is not best for our loved one, if it would not be a real blessing, if it is not God’s way, then, “Thy will be done.” If we pray thus we must believe that the issue, whatever it may be, is God’s best for us. If our friends are taken away there is unspeakable comfort in the confidence that this was God’s will for them. If they recover, it is Christ who has given them back to us, as He gave back Lazarus to Martha and Mary.
The problem of sorrow in a Christian life is a very serious one. It is important that we have a clear understanding upon the subject, in order that when it falls to our lot to suffer, we may receive blessing, and not hurt, from our experience. Every sorrow that comes into our life brings us something good from God. But we may reject the good, and if we do, we not only miss blessing, but receive harm instead. There is in Jesus Christ an infinite resource of consolation, and we have only to open our heart to receive it. Then we shall pass through sorrow sustained by divine help and love, and shall come from it enriched in character and blessed in all our life. Our griefs set lessons for us to learn, and we should diligently seek to get into our life whatever it is that our Master would teach us. In every pain is folded the seed of blessing – we should make sure that the seed shall have an opportunity to grow, and that we may gather its fruit. In every tear a rainbow hides, but only when the sunshine falls upon the crystal drop is the splendour revealed.
“The dark brown mould’s upturned
By the sharp pointed plough–
And I’ve a lesson learned.
“My life is but a field,
Stretched out beneath God’s sky,
Some harvest rich to yield.
“Where grows the golden grain?
Where faith? Where sympathy?
In a furrow cut by pain.”
Page 5
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