Sharing Comfort through the Pain

“We asked you to email us your favorite verses,” Pastor Vernon said.

Oh, no. I meant to send one in but forgot. 

He continued, “We’ll have time later for some of you to share your verses. Even though we know there are stories behind every verse, do not share the stories.”

I grabbed my Bible. I knew the one I had to share. Many Scriptures had sustained me as I faced the illnesses of my parents and husband. The Bible continues comfort me as I walk the journey of grief from their deaths.

Two microphones were placed in the sanctuary. One stood at the end of my row. I restrained myself but wanted to jump up and speak right away. I had to give my verse. 

Though the verse was etched in my heart, with hundreds looking on, I was afraid I might stumble. I prayed I could read it and not cry. A peace settled over me.

Pastor Vernon asked for people to step to the microphones. I crawled over knees to the aisle. As I stood, hundreds of eyes focused on me. 

I faced the congregation. “My verse is Joshua 1:9. My name is Rebecca.” The words of my Bible blurred. But knowing the verse in my heart allowed me to go on.

“This is my command: be strong and courageous. Never be afraid or discouraged because I am your God. I will remain with you wherever you go.” I looked up. I had to share a teeny part of my story.

“Those were the last words my husband said to me before he went to be with Jesus.” 

Hands clasped mine as I returned to my seat. A lady near me wiped tears away. My chest thumped wildly. Tears squeezed out. A terrible pain clenched my lower back. I  made it but returned to my seat in agony. Did Satan attack me because I shared God’s word? Within minutes and silent prayers, the pain was gone, and I began singing.

The verse reminded me of the last night with my husband. After giving Alan his medication, I held his hand and told him his low oxygen level scared me. 

With bright, but weary eyes, Alan told me that he loved me. He recited Joshua 1:9. Then he turned over and went to sleep.

Four hours later when I returned to give him medication, he was gone. He had taken off his oxygen and left to be with Jesus. 

His final words have formed a constant reminder of God’s gift to me through Alan. 

When Pastor Joel stepped on stage, he said, “This is going to be a solemn sermon.”

He was right. He shared his own grief over the death of his son. More tears slipped down my face. 

Three other widows sat by me. All of us still struggle with our losses. Pastor Joel looked at us several times. I felt he was speaking directly to me. 

“God doesn’t always solve our problems. Sometimes something greater is coming,” he continued. “We influence others by the way we turn to God in our pain.”

I don’t know why Alan and my parents weren’t healed. But I have to look ahead to what God has in store for me.

My fear of crying in front of the congregation was overcome by my determination to share a tiny bit of my story. I wanted others to be encouraged. To know that God would be with them too. Even in intense pain and grief. We are comforted so that we can comfort others.

Heavenly Father, thank you for your gift of the Word. In pain and suffering you comfort and encourage with special blessings. Help me as I go forward. Amen