Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort. We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about the troubles we experienced in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt we had received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us again. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many.
—2 Corinthians 1:3-11

~~~~~

The Swing and the Savior
By Jennifer Kane

She once craved comfort
like a porch swing in spring—
the hush of petals falling,
a quilt over knees,
steam rising from a teacup
as if peace could be sipped,
as if softness could save her.

She thought rest meant stillness,
meant retreat,
meant quieting the ache
by numbing the call.
The world offered cushions
and she took them,
stacked them high,
built a throne of ease
and called it peace.

But the swing rocked her into forgetting—
who she was,
what she was made for.
And the garden grew
into a jungle of passivity,
its beauty a trap,
its silence a song that sang her
to spiritual sleep.

Then God knocked.

Not with thunder—
but with truth.
Not with a storm—
but a stirring.
A whisper strong enough
to rustle every false leaf:
“Daughter, rise.”

“You were not made
for the swing,
but for the road.
Not just for the nest,
but for the flight.”

So she stood.

Laid down her quilt
on holy ground.
Traded warm tea
for Living Water.
Left the screened porch
for open fields
where the Spirit runs wild
and comfort is not ease,
but nearness.

Now she walks with bare feet
through flowers she no longer worships.
Breathes spring without bowing to it.
She is not lazy in her longing,
not lulled into stillness.
She is reawakened—
and comfort is no longer
her master,
but her gift
from the Master
who calls her forward.

~~~~~

Scripture: 2 Corinthians 1:3-11

Paul begins his letter with praise—not from a place of ease, but from the deep well of experience with suffering. He knew firsthand the God of paraklesis—the God who strengthens and steadies the soul, not merely soothing but emboldening. This comfort doesn’t merely pamper—it empowers. It’s comfort that walks with us into the fire and helps us stand.

But God’s comfort is not meant to be hoarded. It’s a gift meant to flow through us. As Paul makes clear, our trials are not wasted—they are transformed. The God who raised Jesus from the dead also raises our weary spirits, and in doing so equips us to carry one another.

Suffering is not evidence of God’s absence—it’s often the stage on which His presence becomes unmistakably clear. And through it all, we become living testimonies, comfort-bearers in a world that is desperately hurting.

Even Paul, the mighty apostle, admitted that he despaired of life itself. Yet in that extremity, he discovered a deeper trust—not in himself, but in the God who raises the dead. What a relief to know we serve a God who delivers—not only once, but over and over again.

This week, open your heart and your history. Who in your life is struggling? Is there someone facing a trial you’ve walked through yourself? Ask God to bring them to your mind—and reach out. Share the comfort you’ve received. Your story may be the very balm someone else needs.

Also, reflect: are you allowing others to comfort you? Pride can isolate us, but vulnerability creates space for God’s comfort to come through His people. Don’t go it alone.

~~~~~

Father God of all comfort and mercies, thank You for the ways You have met me in my trials—seen and unseen. Thank You for not wasting a single tear. Help me to see suffering not as a curse, but as a place of encounter. Teach me to share the comfort I’ve received, to open my life as a vessel for Your healing work in others. And when I am weary, remind me that You are not far. You are the God who raises the dead—surely, You can raise my spirit too. In Jesus’ name Amen.

April 24 2025