For even when we came into Macedonia, our bodies had no rest, but we were afflicted at every turn—fighting without and fear within. But God, who comforts the downcast, comforted us by the coming of Titus. 2 Cor. 7:5-6
Dear heavenly Father, this brief vignette from Paul’s life arrived today like well-timed manna dropping from heaven, like the first sign of daylight after a starless night, like a spring shower after a dusty month.
First of all, Father, I praise you for chronicling Paul’s experience of being restless, fearful, and downcast. Many times I suffer from “should-ness”: if I really loved you, if I were more full of the Holy Spirit, if I truly ”got the gospel,” I shouldn’t feel downcast, but upbeat, on top of my game, and cheerful.
It’s comforting to know the gospel doesn’t make us less human, but more yours. Thank you for being a Father who doesn’t shame the downcast. You pursue them, you provide for them, you comfort them—you comfort me.
As I begin this day, I feel like I’m swimming in a pool of baby piranha—no big sharks like Paul was dealing with, just small piranha nibbling at my spirit. I’m surrounded by a lot of little decisions, a lot of little needs, a lot of small conflicts, a lot of little unfinished projects, a lot of little things over which I have absolutely no control, and the combination of these things is weighing me down.
But instead of trying to micro-manage the piranha, I’ll look to you, Father. It’s so good to know you’re running toward us in the gospel all the time—not with a furrowed brow but with a compassionate heart; not with 7 pragmatic steps, but with a resurrected Son; not with a megaphone to coach us, but with extended arms to hold us.
And as you comfort me, Father, I’ll seek to pass it on—to be a Titus to others. What a privilege it is to comfort others with the very comfort you bring to us in all our troubles (2 Cor. 1:3-4). Grace is always running downhill, hallelujah. So very Amen I pray, in Jesus’ grace-full name, with great anticipation.
