True Comfort

I love things that are comfortable. I’m talking sweatpants, those huge two-person fleece blankets, and definitely not high heels. (TeenPact really helped solidify my opinion on this last one!) I also love the comfort of routine, the familiar sound of my favorite songs playing, and calling my mom when I’m out of town. Comfort is found in both the physical and emotional experiences of daily life. 

Many of us are wired this way; we’ve built comfort into our lives in every area. We have smartphones and even smart speakers that respond immediately to our every command, and most of us don’t drive stick shifts. We know how to make our lives easy and convenient. We’re good at being comfortable.

Comfort is not necessarily bad. Some of the most influential people in my life wonderfully put people at ease and make them feel at home. We can use this skill to bless and serve each other. But the reality is, we are not promised a life of comfort in this world.

We are not promised a life of comfort in this world.

I’ve been learning this a lot recently. You needn’t look any further than the last few months of world events to see this. With life turned upside down and so out my control, I’ve been forced to ask myself, Why do I expect so much more stability from this world than it can offer me?

Here’s what I’ve realized: I crave comfort in a place that was never meant to carry the weight of being my home. It’s why I get frustrated and scared and unsettled when what I’ve told myself should be safe ends up not looking safe at all. The world you and I live in is unpredictable at best, and I can’t truly expect to feel at home. Why? This world is not my home.

This world was never meant to carry the weight of being my home.

Jesus understood this struggle, this feeling of displacement on Earth, better than any of us. The night He was arrested and crucified, Pilate asked Him who He was, if He was indeed the “King of the Jews.” Jesus looked at him and answered, “My kingdom is not from the world” (John 18:36).

Jesus knew who He was, and He knew who his Father was. He was facing death, a scary and painful end to his time on Earth. Yet, He knew that His kingdom was never rooted in the temporary; it was always secure with his Father in heaven. There was so much peace in that, even to the point that He willingly followed his Father’s plan to become the perfect sacrifice.

My heart was designed for stability, security, and safety. That’s a God-given longing. I was designed to rest in the comfort of the Father, in knowing who He is and believing in the promises of His provision.

My heart was designed to rest in the comfort of the Father.

When I see my friends walk through the uncertainties of life without the Lord, I remember the importance of this truth, and how I want them to know it, too. Christian spirituality isn’t a pat answer during hard times or simply a way to cope on Earth. It points us to the source who created us and who we were created for. We were made for more than this world has to offer. Yet, because of the One who holds us, we can hold fast to a hope that will eradicate injustice, grief, and sin in the end.

I’m thankful there is richness and depth in calling the arms of Jesus my home, grateful that this reality is a lifelong discovery of knowing Him and loving Him. There’s nothing safer or more fulfilling. There’s security in a world outside my own that I too often ignore because it requires me to slow down, listen, and trust that I don’t know best. But God is so loving to remind me that He knows what’s good for me, and more than any circumstance or situation ever could, He provides me with true comfort.

Editor’s Note: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official views of TeenPact Leadership Schools. To learn more about our Vision & Values, please visit teenpact.com/vision-values/.