“Comfort isn’t a solution to seek.” – Lysa Terkeurst

I don’t want to write another post about all the times I sought comfort in the wrong ways, from the wrong things.  So, I won’t.

I will, however, tell you that I realize what comfort doesn’t bring.  Even writing that seems absurd.  How could comfort, (a feeling), bring anything?

We seek comfort in times of loneliness, grief, and disappointment.  Right?

We all find comfort in different ways… friendships, food, Netflix, wine, etc.

That kind of comfort doesn’t last very long.  It might last as long as the conversation with the friend who is encouraging you, and sometimes for a few moments afterwards if it was a really great conversation. It might last as long as the last bite of the most delicious piece of chocolate cake, or until the last sip of savory wine that swished itself around in your fancy glass.  It might last as long as the movie or episode you were watching… especially when it touches every emotion and ends with a happily ever after.

Then what? How do we find comfort when the comfort provider is gone? Even the longest binge-watching session eventually comes to an end.  We are left with all sorts of empty feelings, based on how much comfort we are seeking.

Maybe we shouldn’t be seeking comfort? Maybe there’s another way?

I think I have found it.

All those times that I sought comfort in the wrong ways, from the wrong things, I ended up in a very dark place.  It felt like I was at the bottom of a very long vertical tunnel with no way out.  That tunnel grew more narrow every day, and eventually it was closing in on me.  I started to panic.  There was no way out.

Just like many people do in a state of panic, I prayed.  I cried great big, painful, stinging tears while asking God to help me find the way out. Quickly.

This might sound crazy, but as I was feeling like I was at the bottom of that deep vertical tunnel, (figuratively), I started to feel peace.  It happened right after I prayed.  I felt a sudden, overwhelming peace.

At first, it looked like a fire escape ladder that was tossed down to me by someone who loved me.  As time passed, I was given the strength to climb each step.  Sometimes I fell back down a few steps, and sometimes I was carried up a few steps.  Eventually, I made it out.

Now, the peace feels like the deepest love I’ve ever experienced.  It doesn’t fade like the comfort I sought.

It doesn’t leave me.

It will never fade.