Loss for words.

#3 He doesn’t know why it happened. My fingers drag across the slotted brown table, contemplatively. He wants answers. My gaze is to the table now, gripping it by the little holes, shutting out external chatter and waiting to be inspired with something to tell him.

#2 Things are beginning to crash on her once again. It doesn’t matter how much she braces herself, one little detail is enough to send her reeling into it all over again. Sympathies provide a shoddy cushion, and, over the phone, troubled silence is not so distinctive from the negligent variety. Say something.

I’ve been meditating on 2 Corinthians for a while now. The passage seems to grow in profundity the more I have these vital encounters.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”

Instance #1 happened about a couple weeks ago. My pastor, while in the Philippines, had congestive heart failure. He’s probably the closest person to me that’s been that close to death. I don’t think I’ve ever prayed so hard. Not just for me, but for everyone in my church, and then some. At 64, he continues to affect a remarkable amount of people internationally (hence, the trip). All those nights I stayed for dinner -- I lament how much I didn’t realize I was in the presence of such a hero of faith. Everyone in the youth started texting, calling, and e-mailing reminders that at 8:00pm, no matter where we were, we would drop what we were doing and pray for Pastor Ed. It was in that time, on our knees, feeling the corporate presence of so many pleas to God, that I began to feel that comfort Paul the apostle talks about.

I think the reason I’ve struggled to say things lately is because I haven’t been listening enough. When I dig into my head and heart for some words of consolation, I try to do it by my own history of trials. I often wind up in a dead end, but I know that even if I had some poignant and trying story to share, it would only help so much. To give supernatural comfort, you need to know supernatural suffering.

That’s on the cross.

“For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too”

To know Christ, to know the sufferings he endured, is to know the salvation he offers you. Salvation not only at the first moment of faith, but also in the face of life’s daily obstacles. For in finding Christ’s sufferings, you find his comfort. And in finding his comfort, you finally find the words to say.

Oh, and Pastor Ed is doing well now. But he'll have to cut out the chocolate and lechon for a while.