Comfort Ye

I made tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches tonight. Since I have become almost a vegetarian it is the closest I come to comfort food. Here on the east coast I believe that comfort food must be largely regulated to the winter months. Something about the grey days and the cold discomfort that begins when we set bare feet to cold floor boards and continues throughout the day till we stand over a warm stove and a simmering pot in the evening .... I like clam chowder too. The New England variety.

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Discomfort is not only regulated to the physical but to the soul as well. I think particularly of our sins and errors. Long cold days of consequence convicting the heart and conscience .... guilt whether real or imagined. I remember the pains and purgatories of my past. I remember being sorry and then some. I remember not being able to take it back. I remember not being able to stop saying I was sorry in my prayers ... like a nervous tick or broken record. This was the time and place for comfort. It was Jesus who knew my wrongs ... it was Jesus who paid the price for my sin and set the communion table with his own body and blood .... comfort food .... it is his right and good pleasure to forgive and absolve.

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I cringe for the fallen .... I know it had to hurt. Something inside me feels the pain that I know they will feel ... if not now, then later. I am not for short cuts .... rushing to console before a true conviction of sin. But I would wish to be the one setting you down at my table when you are ready to come home.