consoled

 

2 Corinthians 1.3-7

‘Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ are abundant for us, so also our consolation is abundant through Christ. If we are being afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation; if we are being consoled, it is for your consolation, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we are also suffering. Our hope for you is unshaken; for we know that as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our consolation.’

Consolation is anything that draws us closer to God, and to the healing of our woundedness and brokenness, and forgiveness of our sins, that was won for humanity by Jesus on the cross.

The opposite of consolation is desolation, which is anything that closes down our awareness of God, and pushes us deeper into woundedness, brokenness, and sin.

Using your imagination, find yourself as a child running around a play park. As you run, you trip and fall and cut your knee. You cry out to your mother, who is sitting on a bench at the side of the playground.

Your mother gathers you up in a cuddle, speaks soothing words in your ear, takes a wipe from her bag, cleans the cut, puts a plaster on it, and sits with you until you are ready to go back to play.

How do you feel? Safe. Secure. Loved. Healed (even though the cut will take time to heal) (this was the brilliant insight of one of the children at our service today).

Now imagine that instead your mother says, ‘Don’t be such a cry-baby, run along now and give me five minutes’ peace.’

How do you feel? Ashamed, of being weak.

The scenario didn’t change. In both, you fell and cut your knee. But the outcome was very different. In one, you experienced consolation; in the other, desolation.

Now imagine that it is Mothers’ Day. You have bought your mother flowers. And as you go to loft her favourite vase down from the dresser, it slips through your fingers, falls to the floor, and is broken. How do you feel, in that moment?

Imagine that your mother, hearing the noise, comes into the room, surveys the scene, and asks, ‘Are you alright? That was a nasty shock, wasn’t it? It’s alright to feel sad about the vase, but you don’t need to feel afraid of me. It’s alright. We can mend the vase, or if not, buy a new one, and make lots of memories with it, just like the old one.’

How does that make you feel? Relief, for starters. And your guilt is dealt with. (Both suggestions offered by people at our service today.)

Now imagine that instead your mother’s response was, ‘You’re so clumsy, you never take any care about anything, now you've ruined everything!’

How do you feel now? Ten times worse that you did, and you already felt bad enough to begin with.

Or what about this. Your mother responds, ‘Never mind, there’s no use crying over spilt milk, it was only a vase.’

How does that make you feel? I would describe that as false consolation. Well-meant perhaps, but this response invalidates sadness, does not enable us to sit with and become familiar with our emotions. It doesn’t acknowledge that things can have sentimental value. It trivialises how we feel.

Now imagine that you come home from school one day very upset because your best friend has done something that really hurt you.

Your mother says, ‘I am so sorry that happened, it feels horrid, doesn’t it? Do you know, I think Jesus understands. He had a best friend, Peter, who let him down when he most needed a friend. And afterwards, Peter felt awful too. But Jesus forgave him, and they mended their friendship. Shall we talk to Jesus about it? Lord Jesus, thank you that you understand. We are glad that this brings us closer to you. Would you help me to forgive my friend? Would you help them to forgive themselves? Would you give us the grace to mend our friendship, like you and Peter? Amen.’

That’s consolation.

Now imagine that your mother responds, ‘People will always let you down, you might as well find out now as later. Move on. You don’t need them in your life. They obviously weren’t a real friend anyway.’

That’s desolation.

Or what about this? ‘Oh well, never mind. How about an ice cream?’

That’s false consolation, seeking comfort in something other than the deep, deep love of God. In this instance, seeking comfort in food. And again, it dismisses difficult or painful emotions, instead of meeting them head on.

We are invited to be people who experience abundant consolation and called to bring others into that same experience of being consoled.

We don’t always get that right. It takes a lifetime to grow into this, receiving forgiveness and extending forgiveness where necessary (which is part of consolation). But Jesus meets us in our joys and sorrows and draws us to himself and one another. And one day, every wound will be healed, all that is broken will be made strong. Until that day, may we live as if it were so.