When God Himself Comforts You

Last summer, our family carefully climbed a twisting spiral staircase to the stuffy library at St. David’s Cathedral. Beams of yellow light poured in from the windows, capturing dust from centuries-old books. On the table before me lay one of the first, enormous Welsh Bibles, spilled open, like arms ready to embrace.
As an American, I can’t read a lick of Welsh but as I marvelled at the beautiful typography, something in me wanted to try. I gently turned the pages until I found one of my favourite passages, Isaiah 40. Though written in Welsh, I recognized its familiar cadence and repetition:
Cysurwch, cysurwch fy mhobl, medd eich Duw.
Which in English is:
Comfort, comfort my people, says your God (Is. 40:1).
As I read those words, I couldn’t help but feel a fresh ache in my heart for the land I was standing in – Wales. Something in me stirred for the people whom this Bible was first printed for, that they may ‘know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent’ (Jn. 17:3).
Did the librarian who eyed me from the corner know the living God, who breathed out these words? I wanted to ask her if she could read it to me in Welsh. I wanted to explain what it meant to her in English. I wanted to be like Philip running alongside the carriage of the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8 helping to explain Isaiah’s prophecy so that she might know this comfort; the comfort of God.
Instead, I politely thanked her for letting me look at the Bible and meandered away not wanting to disturb her or the dusty books any further. Still, my heart aches. Oh, that Wales would know the comfort of the Living God! The God who speaks, who comforts his people. I long for you to know his comfort because here in Isaiah 40 is a living comfort, spoken by the Living God, who deeply loves you.
O afflicted one
The backdrop of Isaiah 40 is grim. God’s people had been ripped from their homes, stripped of their belongings and torn apart from their children in the Babylonian captivity. The people of God were in terrible distress and desperate for comfort.
Have you ever been desperate for comfort? As Zion (God’s people) sat in darkness, this was her cry: ‘The Lord has forsaken me; my Lord has forgotten me’ (Is. 49:14). She meant it. The Lord later describes her with these words, ‘O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted’ (Is. 54:11). Bitter tears probably ran down her cheeks, as she mourned for her lost life, hope snuffed out, like a smouldering wick.
Yet in the midst of this long, dark night the glowing torch of Isaiah 40 suddenly bursts into flame. It is into the dungeon of captivity that the Lord’s message of comfort suddenly comes. It is in the lonely shackles of Babylon that the sound of footsteps comes running, and a voice cries out.
It is the Lord himself crying out.
What does he cry?
His cry is this:
Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and cry to her
that her warfare is ended,
that her iniquity is pardoned,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
double for all her sins (Is. 40:1-2).
This is the Lord’s own personal comfort to his people. A profound message of comfort.
Comfort my people
What is comfort? It could be defined as to ‘give strength or hope’, or ‘to ease the grief or trouble of, or to console’. However, the Hebrew word used for comfort here adds an even deeper layer. It is (nā am) which means to sigh; to breathe strongly, to be sorry for, to have compassion on. It rises up from a place of deep pity; almost like a groan from the core of your being. Think of an audible lament, a sigh of compassion, or the ‘Shh, shh’ a mother makes to console her crying baby.
There is breath behind this word; God’s own breath. He ‘speaks tenderly’, which means he speaks to the heart. He uses the intimate language of fatherly care (my people) and reminds them of his covenant love (says your God), helping them to remember that ‘You are mine, and I am yours.’ He is the God who gives himself.
The phrase, ‘says your God’ in this passage is literally translated ‘keeps saying’. When you read, ‘says your God’, it’s not a thing done once, but a tender, beautiful call, that he keeps saying over his people, again and again. For fresh sorrows, he offers fresh comfort; a never-ending, constant comfort.
The war is over
What comfort does the Lord give here? First, his comfort is not vague, but extremely specific. His first cry is, ‘Her warfare is ended’ (Is. 40:2), which means that her period of trial or duress is over; it has been accomplished.
Imagine if you were living in a time of war, but one day you are awakened by someone crying out: ‘The war is over! The war is over!’ It would feel like waking from a nightmare; relief and joy would wash over your heart and tears burn your eyes.
The war is over but how is it over? Because he has made it so.
The comfort of Christ
His next comfort is, ‘that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins (Is. 40:2). This means that her sins are totally forgiven. How? His own hand has paid for her sins; a divine provision. God himself has done it and he has given her double pardon for all her sins.
Grace upon grace. It’s the kind of love that not only spares wrath but lavishes love. It’s like when the prodigal son’s father runs down the road to greet him, and not only does he forgive him, but he kisses him and throws a huge party on his return (Luke 15). It’s an over-abundant pardon; the mercy of God.
We see this love and pardon most clearly displayed for us when the Lord Jesus Christ laid down his life for us on the cross. It was there that he bore our iniquity and paid the price for our peace. It is through Christ that our warfare has ended as his dying breath cried out, ‘It is finished.’ The war is over because the Prince of Peace paid the price for our peace.
This is the comfort of God, the comfort of Christ. For, ‘he who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?’ (Rom. 8:32). There is no greater comfort we can know, than the comfort of Christ.
‘O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted’ (Is. 54:11), look to Christ. Lift your eyes to Christ. He is your greatest comfort; your constant comfort and your everlasting comfort. For in Christ, the war is over, our iniquity is pardoned and we have received a double pardon for all our sins.
This is the good news for Wales and this is the good news for you. In Christ, we have a living, breathing, constant comfort. An ever-present, and everlasting comfort.