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The Father of all Compassion

A few months ago I found an alcove in a church and hid beneath a side table, laying down and cradling my head in my arms, hoping no one would find me there. I didn’t cry- I’d been forcing the tears back for too long, and now they refused to fall. So I just lay there, alone except for the only One that I didn’t mind being with me in that moment.
  I found myself laying in the middle of an empty living room of an empty house tonight, feeling just the same as I had a few months ago- tears hid themselves, emotions had run around inside my head so many times that they had exhausted themselves into apathy. And I found myself alone, except of course for my Father.
  In those moments God rarely gives me profound insight. He doesn’t give me any clear answers to the muddled assortment of questions I have. It’s simply as though He holds me for a while, and comforts me. He sits with me and we are quiet together.
  2 Corinthians 3-4 says, “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 have received from God.”
  I believe it’s Paul that’s writing here, and he seems to get passionate when he’s writing which leads to run-on sentences, but that’s alright. In those moments when I have worn my smile ragged and my patience has grown thin, my God of all compassion simply comforts me. And this empowers me to do the same to the people that God surrounds me with- that even when I am tired and worn, I can simply sit quietly with them and let them know that I care. I will listen or comfort or not say anything at all, but regardless I will be there for them just as my God is there for me.
  It’s daunting. I am tired, I am drained; but it is not all about me. And as my Father shows me compassion, it empowers me to show compassion.

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