Christmas decorations still hang, forgotten.
Wheezing cats snooze fitfully nearby. Whiskers and paws twitching.
Oblivious, blurred fingers type a staccato beat into the night.
The keyboard's "M" barely visible from wear and tear. Only whispers of soft music break the loud silence. The fireplace blaze reduces to embers as the drama unfolds.
Nearing the end of writing my latest Bible study, The God of All Comfort, I'm thanking God for this privileged loneliness.
This self-imposed solitary confinement necessary to translate interviews revealing soul-scarring events. Essential to capture. Difficult to articulate.
Theirs and mine.
The history of real pain. The drama of spiritual struggles. Stories of anger, misplaced expectations, fear, abuse, loss, and betrayal. They shout for space on the pages.
And God whispers into the chaos.
Bruised lives redeemed by a faithful Healer. Hope offered by a murdered Messiah. Restoration freely secured by a risen Savior.
"For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too." (2 Cor. 1:5)
No one likes suffering, yet there's healing in the telling. Abundant comfort.
As the laptop screen glows long into the night, gratitude overflows as I recall the faces of these story-sharers. The profound impact they've had on my spiritual journey. Honored by their trust to reveal great pain redeemed by an even greater God.
A holy experience.
And I'm already praying.
For the lives He will touch by these stories in light of His Word.
And the shadowed hearts He will usher back into His glorious light through them.
And somewhere in these stories, I pray you find yours.
Pouring amazing grace through the chapters, God gushes His love into our empty wells. Faithfully demonstrating how His life-giving Word works healing in us.
Received, His soothing comfort then offered through us.
In spite of our discomfort.
If we let Him.