Do You Struggle To Receive God’s Comfort?

Hannah Whitall Smith

 

5 min read ⭑

 
 

“Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort; who comforteth us in all our tribulations, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.” (2 Corinthians 1:3,4, KJV)

 

Among all the names that reveal God, this — the God of all comfort — seems one of the loveliest and most absolutely comforting. The words all comfort admit of no limitation. One would suppose that, however full of discomfort the outward life of his followers might be, their inner lives must necessarily be always — and under all circumstances — comfortable.

But as a fact, it often seems the opposite. The religious lives of many of God’s children are full, not of comfort, but of the utmost discomfort. They are anxious and troubled about everything — about their failures, their apathy toward Scripture, their distracted prayers, their cold hearts. They are tormented by regrets about the past and fears about the future. They feel unworthy to approach God and dare not believe he would draw near to them. They find joy in the company of friends, but not in the presence of the God who calls himself Comforter.

 
The RMS Mauretania

Public Domain

 

And although he declares himself to be the God of all comfort, they continually complain that they cannot find comfort anywhere — and their faces and voices betray that it’s the truth.

Such Christians, though they follow the God of all comfort, often spread gloom around them. It’s little wonder the world doubts the reality of God’s comfort when his own children live so uncomfortably. Paul said we are to be living letters, read by everyone. But if what people read in us is religious discomfort, they are unlikely to believe what we say about God’s comfort.

But what is the comfort God gives? Is it a spiritual sentiment good only for Heaven? Or is it genuine comfort — real and deep enough for life’s actual trials?

With all my heart, I believe it’s the latter.

Comfort is comfort. We all know what it is. It’s curling up in a safe place after a hard day. It’s resting pain-free after an illness. It’s the feeling of being gathered into your mother’s arms after a fall. It’s warmth, relief, satisfaction. And that is what this name — “the God of all comfort” — is meant to convey.

But we’ve failed to believe it. We dare to hope for little scraps of comfort — but we run from the promise of all comfort as though it were too good to be true. And yet God says plainly: As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you.” Have we really believed that God’s comforting is as tender, as intimate, as real as a mother’s? Or have we imagined him distant and critical — more Judge than Father?

No wonder our religion makes us uncomfortable. But I rejoice to tell you, that stern Judge you fear does not exist. The God who does exist is like a mother, saying: “As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you.”

Over and over again he says it: “I, even I, am he that comforteth you.” And still he asks us: “Why are you afraid? Have you forgotten me, your Maker?”

God sent his Son not to judge the world, but to comfort it — to bind up the brokenhearted, to free the prisoner, to comfort all who mourn. All — not just the strong, the qualified or the holy. The feeble-minded are especially singled out for comfort in Paul’s exhortation to the church. [Editor’s note: “Feeble-minded” is a historical term for people with intellectual disabilities and is no longer in common use.]

This is the glory of the Gospel: God came for the ones who mourn, and Jesus fulfilled this mission at every step. He received sinners. He defended the outcast. He restored the broken. He didn’t come to destroy lives, but to save them.

Like the little girl who said, “I know God doesn’t love me. I’m too tiny,” — only to be told, “That’s what God is for — to take care of tiny girls who can’t take care of themselves.” So it is with us. That’s what he’s for.

 

Set your face like flint. Say to yourself, “God says it. It is true. And I will believe it, no matter what.” You may find yourself astonished at the flood of comfort that follows.

 

And he is not far off. Jesus said, “I will not leave you comfortless.” He would send another Comforter, the Holy Spirit, who would abide with us forever. That Comforter is here now. Not one who comes and goes, but One who stays. An abiding Comforter.

What a word: Comforter. And what a gift — to never be without comfort again. Never for a single moment should we be uncomfortable.

You might wonder, “But doesn’t the Holy Spirit also reprove us?” Yes — and that is one of his comforts. What a gift to have someone who lovingly points out what’s wrong, so that we can be healed. A sister once kept me in check with a whisper if I was doing something wrong. Her presence was a comfort. So it is with the Spirit — always near, always keeping us from going astray.

You may say you are unworthy of his comfort. I agree. No one is worthy. But comfort is not for the worthy — it’s for the needy. That’s what makes it comfort. That’s what makes it grace.

Isaiah says, “I have seen his ways, and I will heal him: I will lead him also, and restore comforts unto him.” He restores comfort because of our sin — not in spite of it. Because he loves us too much to leave us comfortless.

So if you find yourself in the wilderness of disappointment or sorrow, do not despair. That’s where he allures us in order to speak comfortably to us. We must feel our need of comfort before we can receive it. And when we do, the comfort that comes is better than anything we’ve lost.

Still, how many of us reverse God’s words: “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted,” becomes, “Blessed are they that rejoice.” We believe God forgets us, when he says, “I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.”

If you want God’s comfort, you must take it. It’s not automatic. It must be received by faith. You must choose to be comforted. Just as in every spiritual discipline, you must set your will to trust him.

God says, “Believe, and you will feel.” But we say, “Let me feel first, and then I’ll believe.” That’s why so many of us live without comfort. God is offering it — but we refuse to take it until we feel it.

No more. Set your face like flint. Say to yourself, “God says it. It is true. And I will believe it, no matter what.” You may find yourself astonished at the flood of comfort that follows.

 

Hannah Whitall Smith (1832–1911) was a Christian writer, speaker and leader in the Holiness movement, known for her ability to make deep theological truths accessible and warmly personal. Best known for “The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life,” her writings continue to comfort, challenge and nurture believers around the world. “The God of All Comfort” reflects her unshakable belief in the tenderness and nearness of God.


Adapted from “The God of All Comfort” by Hannah Whitall Smith. This work is in the public domain.

Related Articles

Hannah Whitall Smith

Hannah Whitall Smith (1832–1911) was a Christian writer, speaker, and leader in the Holiness movement, known for her ability to make deep theological truths accessible and warmly personal. Best known for “The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life,” her writings continue to comfort, challenge, and nurture believers around the world. “The God of All Comfort” reflects her unshakable belief in the tenderness and nearness of God.

Previous
Previous

The ABC’s of Joy

Next
Next

All of Us Here