Does anyone not need comfort?

Over the course of this year’s scripture study, I have noticed how frequently we talk about suffering, and the need for suffering. If nothing else, the lesson on Job focuses on the fact that everyone goes through suffering in this life — and recently I pointed out that our beliefs teach that suffering is a necessary part of what we need to learn in this life, something that has appeared in our poetry for a long time.

Comfort is the other side of suffering. We need comfort to help us with suffering, and to relieve us of the feelings we have because of our suffering. Its one thing to intellectually recognize the need for suffering and what it teaches us, and it is quite another thing to process the feelings that come with suffering.

And the Lord has several ways to comfort us. The scriptures are often a source of comfort, especially those verses we find beautiful and uplifting. And the knowledge in the scriptures that helps us understand the reason for suffering and our place in the Universe are often comforting. Our families and our community can be a source of comfort. Beauty in general, whether in Nature or in artwork, can provide another source of comfort. And time can help us find comfort, as we gain eternal perspective on our suffering (like I pointed out recently).

 

Jesus Christ can comfort me and give me hope.

Prayer is another way to gain comfort in our suffering. Prayer goes beyond simple communication with God to actual communion with Him. It’s more like getting a hug from a friend than reading a text message, even though the same message is given.

This hymn from Evan Stephens urges us to make the effort to find comfort in prayer. He sees prayer as a ‘healing balm’ and a source of comfort when friends and family aren’t available. And he promises relief through prayer, which will give us relief and lighten our load and way.

 

When thy soul is sad and weary

Seek relief in pray’r,

When the way is dark and dreary

Still there’s comfort there;

There’s a healing balm that prayer

Can alone impart,

And a comfort sent from heaven

To the seeking heart.

 

When thy dearest hope is blighted,

Like the autumn flowers,

And despair takes hold upon thee

In thy trying hour,

And in vain thou lookest round thee

for some friendly aid,

Turn to heav’n in supplication,

Ask, nor be afraid.

 

Then a heav’nly consolation

Will relieve the heart,

Of its burden of vexation

And its aching smart;

And thy trust in God will lighten

All thy deep despair,

And thy way thro’ life will brighten

By the aid of prayer.

1913

 

“Thou art my servant.”

Our understanding of our relationship with our Father depends a lot on our worldview. Sometimes we think of ourselves as His children, and other times we think of ourselves as His servants. Both ways of seeing teach us different things, different kinds of humility, different roles and give us different obligations. I suspect today we have a strong preference for seeing ourselves as His children—which makes me wonder what we might loose in not thinking of ourselves as His servants.

This poem focuses on that role of servant, seeking the Father’s attention and blessing in our efforts. Somehow as servants we seem more humble, and less sure that our prayers will be answered. But even in this poem, the role is both, since while naming himself as a servant, the poet also addresses God as our Father. Where does that leave us in defining our relationship with God?

 

O Father, hear thy servant’s prayer,

While I to thee draw nigh:

Do thou my waiting soul prepare,

For blessings from on high.

 

I ask not golden streams to flow

Along my earthly way;

Nor many scores of years below,

For long I would not stay.

 

I ask not pleasure, pow’r nor fame,

That earthly things can give;

I ask no honor to my name

That Saints do not receive.

 

I ask for wisdom, faith and pow’r

That comes from thee, my God;

To save me in each trying hour,

And from thy chast’ning rod.

 

Save, too, the young and tender boughs

That from my loins proceed;

That they may pay thy servant’s vows,

Like holy men, indeed.

 

May they become a mighty tree,

Like Joseph’s bough of old,

Whose branches run from sea to sea,

Whose numbers can’t be told.

1882

 

God’s power is greater than worldly power.

When we seek comfort, we often seek power — and we assume that power is needed to overcome the source of our suffering. Knowing that our Father has more power than any human or any earthly force, suggests that the reason we are suffering isn’t because God can’t help, but rather that we suffer because God allows it to happen. We are here in this life to learn, and as our leaders and poets have indicated, the suffering is part of this learning, even if we don’t understand how at the moment. God’s power simply confirms that its not a failure. We can take comfort in his strength and abilities, even if they aren’t used.

In this poem Joel Johnson sees the power of God as an active force in the world, accomplishing His purposes and building His kingdom. He also predicts an accompanying decline in the power of the “Gentiles.”

 

O Father, still on Zion’s hill

Thy love and power make known,

Till nations, all, before thee fall,

And Zion’s sceptre own.

 

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,

O’er all the earth and main,

That peace and joy, without alloy,

In ev’ry heart may reign.

 

For Gentile power shall from this hour

Upon the earth decrease,

Till Christ again shall come to reign,

And fill the earth with peace.

 

Then great reward, from Christ the Lord,

Will to the Saints be given;

Hosanna sing to Zion’s King,

Ye Saints, in earth and heav’n.

1882

 

The Lord can refine me through my afflictions.

Perhaps the greatest comfort in suffering is something we don’t always get—an understanding of why we are suffering. The idea that we need to find meaning in suffering is echoed in as disparate places as Buddhist theology and the philosophy of holocaust survivor Victor Frankl, as well as in our LDS doctrine and, of course, poetry.

In the following poem, Eliza R. Snow consoles a friend on the suffering in her life. When she immigrated to Utah, Elizabeth Goddard left behind her aged mother, and then witnessed five of her children die en route to Utah.

 

DEAR LADY—MY SISTER:

I fain would express

A wish for your welfare—a wish that will bless.

’Twere not well if your life were a pathway of ease,

In which all that transpires is conspiring to please;—

A life where no clouds and no shadows shall come,

Where all is bright sunshine, sweet fragrance and bloom;—

A life without object, care, use or design;—

A life with no furnace, the gold to refine.

Be assured, my dear lady, far better your life

Be with sorrow and trying perplexities rife;

That the gifts you’re endow’d with thro’ experience grow,

And your power of endurance by tests you may show.

It is needful to taste of the good and the ill,

To prepare high positions with honor to fill.

In proportion to labors, rewards will be given.

May you earn in earth’s workshop a fulness in heaven.

May you don all the armor the Gospel requires,

And invest all the energies wisdom inspires.

In the course you’re pursuing, be certain you’re right,

Then whate’er may oppose, neither shun nor invite.

Unstinted by sloth and unclogg’d by abuse,

May your faculties strengthen by practical use.

May your usefulness grow, and your labors, tho’ great,

Increase year by year in responsible weight.

To humanity’s interests ever awake,

Be firm in truth’s conflict for righteousness’ sake.

There is much to replenish, and much to subdue,

Which requires deep reflection and vigilance, too.

The relief of the poor claims the heart and the hand;

While retrenchment reforms, great exertions demand.

Arouse every effort those ills to remove,

Which sap the foundation of union and love;

Which thro’ worldly ambition and selfishness grow,

And pander to vain ostentation and show.

Set your face as a flint, else ambition and pride

Will your precept and practice ignobly divide.

May the rich consolations the gospel bestows,

Under every bereavement, your sorrows compose.

May your name in all future, in honor be known

For your noble example—for the good you have done,

That your peace, as a river, may constantly flow,

Is the wish of your sister and friend,

E. R. SNOW.

1871