Comfort

It's a basic human need... comfort.

We see it in children all the time, but there's something about being so real, so raw, that we as adults tend to avoid.  It's like we don't want anyone to know that we are hurting.  As if somehow showing our insecurities will make us more vulnerable to put downs.

I think about my son and his comfort.  It's obvious.

He loves his thumb and he loves his bellybutton.  There's something very soothing to him about these two things.  He does it when he's sad, when he's tired, when he's bored...or pretty much without thinking anymore.  I look at him and I see his desire for comfort.  He loves to curl up in my lap sucking his thumb and playing with his bellybutton.  (I like it too.)  He's not ashamed to come to me with a hurt, whether it be physical or emotional.  He's pretty transparent.

I wish we could be more like that.  More like that woman, who when asked told Him the whole truth. Or the man who was not ashamed and didn't care who heard him shouting; he desired comfort..."Jesus, Son of David. Have mercy on me."  Maybe even this man who despite his position came looking for help and for compassion.  Now I realize that these people were opening themselves to Christ Jesus himself, and obviously it would be easier to be vulnerable to Him; but are we not His body?  When we open ourselves up and take a good long look at our weaknesses, shouldn't we take them to Him and in turn be comforted by His arms embracing us through His sons and daughters?  Should I be ashamed to suck my thumb in your presence, to show that I am scared, hurting, and needing consolation? Or can I cry out and not be ashamed that you hear me saying...

"Jesus, Son of David. Have mercy on me." 

"Jesus, Son of David. Have mercy on me." 

"Jesus, Son of David. Have mercy on me." 

"Jesus, Son of David. Have mercy on me."