Comfort, O comfort my people...

I’ve often wondered about giving comfort to those who are in some sort of distress or pain. I’m not the sort of person who is naturally gifted with the ability to comfort others. I realized this quickly in my position as a outreach worker to street youth. This may sound strange coming from a Youth Outreach Worker who spent four plus years with drug-affected, street-entrenched youth, but I really don’t know how to provide comfort to people. I have had many talks with youth over the years in which they would share their various struggles and hardships with me. My natural response would often be something to the effect of, “yeah, that sucks” or “man, that must be tough”. When I first began, I had all sorts of illusions of give such wise, sage advise that the youth would immediately see how they might properly respond to their difficulties and recognize that God would help them through. I soon realized that such wonderfully sage advice would not be forthcoming from me. I had to learn to work within my limits. The solution that I eventually came to was to offer what I had, not what I didn’t have (i.e. sage, life-changing wisdom). What I often did have was an ear to listen with and the time to do just that. These I would give as freely as my many tasks would allow. I eventually became comfortable with responses like, “seriously? I can’t imagine what that’s like”. I think I just became more okay with just being me. I couldn’t pretend to understand what these kids have been through… so I didn’t. Usually we’d talk, I’d ask question, and I would just let them be in a safe place where they could share. Sometimes I’d pray for them, sometimes I’d share my thoughts or experiences, but always, I would do my best to provide a context where two broken human beings could be broken together (even if just for a moment). The worst thing when suffering is to feel alone and that no one cares (and when you’re on the streets, you must often wonder if anyone actually does).

I don’t work downtown anymore. I don’t spend my days with street youth. There was something refreshing about some of the kids I would meet down there: they know they’re messed-up, they know they have serious problems. Now I spend my days with well-to-do, clean, employed people, who have full stomachs and full wallets. They don’t come to me with their pain and their struggles. What does it look like to provide comfort to these people? I know they have pain, I know they have struggles. I know this because I’m one of them and I have pain, I have struggles. I often ask myself what it would look like to comfort these people. Maybe I should start by asking myself what it would look like for me to ask for comfort, to share my struggles, my pain. How can I expect such people to overcome the social norms when I am little able to myself?

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 will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.