“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ… and the God of all comfort.”

 Sometimes you get it right, sometimes you can’t.  Can’t get what right?  Translation, as in the 2003 movie, “Lost in Translation”, starring Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson.  In the film, the two main characters cross paths in Tokyo, realizing hat both are lost, but not lost geographically.  They’re lost in life direction going nowhere.  Setting the film the Japanese capitol only compounds the translation level of what gets lost.  So what get’s lost in translation that can’t be gotten right?  Exact word-for-word translation. Many words in one language just don’t have an equivalent in other languages.  “God of all comfort” from 2 Corinthians 1 is a prime example.

 In the opening paragraph of this most intimate letter of Paul, he writes about “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort” (v. 3).  It’s this last word, comfort, that all translations into English fail.  “Comfort” is the generally accepted word.  But when I think of comfort, I think of a hammock, or couch potatoes, or worse, “comfort foods”.  Eat this or that and it will comfort you.  Yeah, if you like those extra pounds around your stomach, hips or thighs.  Sorry, but that’s not comfort in my book.  No matter what English word you try, there is no clear and precise correspondent.  So I will resort to extreme and diabolical action.  I will use an example of my sons.

 I try not to needlessly brag on my kids, but in this case it’s warranted.  My older son Dave currently lives outside Nashville, Tennessee, my other son Brian outside Columbus, GA.   Dave had a sinking bathroom floor in his home.  He pulled off the linoleum flooring only to find that the toilet was being held in place only by the piping.  All the floor beams had rotted away from a leaky toilet.  He knew he was up to his knees in…trouble.  So he called Brian, a whiz with construction repair if there ever was one.  Brian said, I’ll be there in a flash.  Driving up with his wife, he assessed the job and said, “Let’s go to Lowe’s!”  And after 24 hours in 2 days, they had gutted the entire bathroom and rebuilt it, working very long hours so that Brian could get back to his job.  That, in essence, is what the Greek word in 2 Corinthians 1:3 means, as in “the God of all _____________.”  It’s not comfort, or just comfort.  It is so much more.

 Brian didn’t arrive and say, “Aww, you poor guy.  Bathroom floor a wreck?  Can’t fix it yourself?  What a touch break.  Let me comfort you.”  Nope, first he came.  Then he assessed what needed to be done.  Then they got the supplies and worked with Dave to get the job done.  That is what is expressed in the Greek word paraclete.  Literally, it means to come alongside and supply what is lacking.  Of course, God doesn’t need to go to Lowe’s or any other place for supplies; he is the ultimate supplier!

Now let’s do something awkward: let’s remember this illustration and use “come alongside” for paraclete in verses 3-7 and retranslate it.  It sounds awful, but let’s not lose sight of its meaning: “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all coming alongside, who comes alongside us in all our troubles, so that we can come alongside those in any trouble with the coming alongside-ness we ourselves have received from God.  For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our coming alongside overflows.  If we are distressed, it is for your coming alongside and salvation; if we have been comed alongside, it is for your coming alongside, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer.  And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our coming alongside.”  Despite the awkwardness, do you see how rich this passage is when paraclete isn’t reduced to “comfort”?

Paul makes a rare admission in verse eight: despairing of life. But he identifies why his suffering was so extreme: “that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead” (v. 9).  And how does he do that?  He comes alongside us to get us through the suffering, not necessarily around it.  If Paul still needed to learn not to rely on himself but on God, are we beyond him?  Have we reached that lofty goal of perfection in motive, word and deed where we sin no more?  Do we even need to ask the question?

God has his plans.  They’re past finding out. He’s alongside you right now.  Ready to go deeper?