The shadow of death has fallen heavily near your dwelling, and the wickedness of man’s heart has wrought a deed so dark that words fail to measure it. Yet into this very darkness the Lord speaks to His people, “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people.” It is a divine command laid upon every believer who has tasted His grace. When the world reels in horror and the natural heart recoils in dread, the child of God is called to step near with the only balm that can reach such wounds.
Now, what is this comfort we are to bring? It is not the thin, empty consolation of human reasoning which says time will heal. No, the peculiar comfort of the afflicted believer, that which he can press to his bosom and call his own in the hour of deepest need, springs from a living source. It is when the Word of God quickens the soul, not the bare letter, but the Spirit breathing through it, that we find a foundation beneath the shifting sands. Our Lord Jesus Christ Himself, and God even our Father, must comfort the heart, else it is past our power. And here is a sweet morsel to roll under your tongue: the very enormity of grief, the shocking violence of the crime, does not shut the mourners away from the omniscient tenderness of the Master, who was grieved Himself, and knows our frame.
Pray for this family, not merely that the sharpness of their sorrow pass, but that they might be quickened. For comfort alone is not sufficient; we need also to be established in every good word and work, lest our grief fester into unbelief or bitterness. Plead the Fatherhood of God for them. Go before the throne and cry, “My Father, will You let these afflicted ones despond? My Father, will You not relieve them in the hour of distress?” And as you go to the mercy seat, remember that no trial, however fearsome, has taken them but such as is common to man, for violence has stalked through the ages. Yet God is faithful, who will not allow them to be tempted above what they are able. He who sets bounds to the roaring sea sets a bound to sorrow, and will, with the temptation, also make a way to escape, that they may be able to bear it.
What is your duty then? You look upon a bruise too deep for human surgery. Go and tell them that though they now drink the wormwood and the gall, there is a promise sealed with blood: “You shall forget your misery, and remember it as waters that pass away.” This shall be through the lapse of time, yes, but more truly through the super-abounding presence of the Savior in the midst of the flame. Therefore, be you an angel of comfort. Go in the strength of the Lord, and speak that word which can steady the reeling mind. Tell them that Christ does not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax. And if your own heart is heavy, and you feel small among your brethren, yet take heart. The smallest child in the family is as truly the father’s own as the tallest and most gifted. So use the little strength you have, and God shall make it a channel of His mighty consolation.