And Jesus, which is called Justus, who are of the circumcision. These only are my fellowworkers unto the kingdom of God, which have been a
comfort unto me. Col 4:11
comfort unto me. Col 4:11
Here we see Paul's recognition of the comforting, and sympathetic spirit of the fellow workers who assisted him in his mission and were faithful in their ministry. The Jesus spoken of here, is also called Justus. He seems to have been of no importance in the Church, for his name is the only one in this context which does not re-appear in Philemon, and we never hear of him again. However, he is made immortal because he sent a word of comfort to Colossae.
In chapter 25 of Matthew we can see the relation to how Jesus the Christ recognizes even the most simple of acts of kindness, and sympathy, in His invitation into the Kingdom for the "least of these" of my brethren.
Mat 25:34 Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:
Mat 25:35 For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
Mat 25:36 Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.
We can gain a great deal just from this verse from Paul, let's break down some wisdom to be learned here:
Others Can Be Our Paregoric
The word comfort in our text is a very interesting word. This is the only place where it occurs in the books of the New Testament. It is quite another word the Lord uses when He speaks of the Holy Ghost, the Comforter. When He says, "I will not leave you comfortless," that, too, is an entirely different word. The term which is used here, and here alone in the whole range of the New Testament, is our English word paregoric. Now paregoric, in Greek just as in English, is one of accepted terms of medicine. Paregoric is a doctor's word. And one likes to think that the Apostle Paul in his employment of such a word as this betrays, it may be quite unconsciously, the influence of the beloved physician Luke. I suppose that every real friendship has an influence upon the words we use. When we admire anybody very much, we often find their words upon our lips. And Paul, who like so many other people had an intense admiration for his doctor, would naturally use the words of Luke.
Paregoric Mitigates Pain
And certainly he could not have used a more appropriate or delightful word. Are you aware what paregoric means? I consulted my English dictionary to see how paregoric was defined, and I found that paregoric was a medicine that mitigates or alleviates pain. And what could be more delightful than the thought that there are men and women who are just like that—they mitigate or alleviate our pain. Pain is one of the conditions of our being. Pain is something nobody escapes. All life is rich in pain, as the throat of the bird in the spring is rich in song—the pain of striving, the pain of being baffled, the pain of loneliness and incompleteness, the pain of being misunderstood. There are people who augment that pain, sometimes without meaning it. How often is the pain of life increased by those unfortunate people who mean well. But who has not numbered in his list of friends somebody whose Christlike ministry has been to alleviate the pain of life? Such were the apostle's paregoric. Such are the paregoric of us all; often humble people, not in the least distinguished and not at all conspicuous for intellect; yet somehow, in the wear and tear of life and amid its crosses and its sorrows, mitigating and alleviating pain.
Paregoric in Our Family and Friendly Circles
Often those who alleviate life's pain, who are paregoric in the apostle's sense, are the members of our family circle, the dear ones who dwell with us at home. There was a time in Principal Rainy's life when he was the most hated man in Scotland. Scarcely a week passed in which the newspapers had not some venomous attack upon him. And all the time, neither in face nor temper did Rainy show one trace of irritation, but carried himself with a beautiful serenity. One day Dr. Whyte met him and said, "Rainy, I cannot understand you. How do you manage to keep serene like this, exposed to all these venomous attacks?" And Rainy answered without an instant's pause: "Whyte, I'm very happy at home." The wounds were deep, but there were hands at home that were always pouring balm into the wounds; gentle, kindly ministries at home that mitigated and alleviated pain. And how many there are in every rank of life who find their courage to endure in secret sweet comforting like that. In the perfect trust of little children, in their innocence and blessed ignorance, in the love of someone who is dear, who understands yet is always bright and hopeful, how many men have plucked up heart again, found the bitter pain of life alleviated, been strengthened for their battle with the world.
Again, think of the comfort that we get from any friend who really understands us. Such appreciative and understanding souls—are these not the apostle's paregoric? Our Lord knew that. Never was man misunderstood as He. Misunderstood when He spoke or would not speak—misunderstood in every deed He wrought—misunderstood upon the cross. Think of the exquisite pain of it for that sensitive and sinless heart—fresh from the understanding of high heaven, that constant misunderstanding of mankind. And then there came an hour when Simon Peter inspired by the Holy Ghost cried, "Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God." It thrilled our blessed Master to the depths. Life was different. He was understood. How instantly did it alleviate and mitigate the bitter pain He had to bear. And whenever in this difficult life of ours God sends us somebody who understands, is it not always paregoric to the soul? To have somebody whom we can trust—who, we are sure, will never misinterpret—who never judges us except in love—who appreciates and understands—what earthly comfort in all the range of comfort can for one moment be compared with that?
Comforting Others Without Realizing It
There is one thing more I want to say and that, too, was in the apostle's mind. Remember you can be a comfort to another though you never know anything about it. Just as the finest influence we exercise is often that of which we are unconscious, so the greatest comfort that we bring is often the comfort we know nothing of—not our preaching nor our words of cheer, but the way in which we bear ourselves in life when the burden is heavy and the sky is black. "No man liveth to himself." Let men or women behave gallantly and behave so because they trust in God when life is difficult, when things go wrong, when health is falling, when the grave is opened; and though they may never hear a whisper of it, there are others who are thanking God for them. Every sorrow borne in simple faith is helping other men to bear their sorrows. Every burden victoriously carried is helping men and women to be braver. Every cross, anxiety, foreboding, shining with the serenity of trust, comes like light to those who sit in darkness. People say sometimes, "I would give anything to comfort so and so." Dear friend, if you walk in light and love, you are a comfort when you never know it. And other people, writing their epistle (though it will never be equal to Colossians), will put your name in to your intense surprise and say," You were a comfort unto me." (Devotional Sermons)
In chapter 25 of Matthew we can see the relation to how Jesus the Christ recognizes even the most simple of acts of kindness, and sympathy, in His invitation into the Kingdom for the "least of these" of my brethren.
Mat 25:34 Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:
Mat 25:35 For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
Mat 25:36 Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.
We can gain a great deal just from this verse from Paul, let's break down some wisdom to be learned here:
Others Can Be Our Paregoric
The word comfort in our text is a very interesting word. This is the only place where it occurs in the books of the New Testament. It is quite another word the Lord uses when He speaks of the Holy Ghost, the Comforter. When He says, "I will not leave you comfortless," that, too, is an entirely different word. The term which is used here, and here alone in the whole range of the New Testament, is our English word paregoric. Now paregoric, in Greek just as in English, is one of accepted terms of medicine. Paregoric is a doctor's word. And one likes to think that the Apostle Paul in his employment of such a word as this betrays, it may be quite unconsciously, the influence of the beloved physician Luke. I suppose that every real friendship has an influence upon the words we use. When we admire anybody very much, we often find their words upon our lips. And Paul, who like so many other people had an intense admiration for his doctor, would naturally use the words of Luke.
Paregoric Mitigates Pain
And certainly he could not have used a more appropriate or delightful word. Are you aware what paregoric means? I consulted my English dictionary to see how paregoric was defined, and I found that paregoric was a medicine that mitigates or alleviates pain. And what could be more delightful than the thought that there are men and women who are just like that—they mitigate or alleviate our pain. Pain is one of the conditions of our being. Pain is something nobody escapes. All life is rich in pain, as the throat of the bird in the spring is rich in song—the pain of striving, the pain of being baffled, the pain of loneliness and incompleteness, the pain of being misunderstood. There are people who augment that pain, sometimes without meaning it. How often is the pain of life increased by those unfortunate people who mean well. But who has not numbered in his list of friends somebody whose Christlike ministry has been to alleviate the pain of life? Such were the apostle's paregoric. Such are the paregoric of us all; often humble people, not in the least distinguished and not at all conspicuous for intellect; yet somehow, in the wear and tear of life and amid its crosses and its sorrows, mitigating and alleviating pain.
Paregoric in Our Family and Friendly Circles
Often those who alleviate life's pain, who are paregoric in the apostle's sense, are the members of our family circle, the dear ones who dwell with us at home. There was a time in Principal Rainy's life when he was the most hated man in Scotland. Scarcely a week passed in which the newspapers had not some venomous attack upon him. And all the time, neither in face nor temper did Rainy show one trace of irritation, but carried himself with a beautiful serenity. One day Dr. Whyte met him and said, "Rainy, I cannot understand you. How do you manage to keep serene like this, exposed to all these venomous attacks?" And Rainy answered without an instant's pause: "Whyte, I'm very happy at home." The wounds were deep, but there were hands at home that were always pouring balm into the wounds; gentle, kindly ministries at home that mitigated and alleviated pain. And how many there are in every rank of life who find their courage to endure in secret sweet comforting like that. In the perfect trust of little children, in their innocence and blessed ignorance, in the love of someone who is dear, who understands yet is always bright and hopeful, how many men have plucked up heart again, found the bitter pain of life alleviated, been strengthened for their battle with the world.
Again, think of the comfort that we get from any friend who really understands us. Such appreciative and understanding souls—are these not the apostle's paregoric? Our Lord knew that. Never was man misunderstood as He. Misunderstood when He spoke or would not speak—misunderstood in every deed He wrought—misunderstood upon the cross. Think of the exquisite pain of it for that sensitive and sinless heart—fresh from the understanding of high heaven, that constant misunderstanding of mankind. And then there came an hour when Simon Peter inspired by the Holy Ghost cried, "Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God." It thrilled our blessed Master to the depths. Life was different. He was understood. How instantly did it alleviate and mitigate the bitter pain He had to bear. And whenever in this difficult life of ours God sends us somebody who understands, is it not always paregoric to the soul? To have somebody whom we can trust—who, we are sure, will never misinterpret—who never judges us except in love—who appreciates and understands—what earthly comfort in all the range of comfort can for one moment be compared with that?
Comforting Others Without Realizing It
There is one thing more I want to say and that, too, was in the apostle's mind. Remember you can be a comfort to another though you never know anything about it. Just as the finest influence we exercise is often that of which we are unconscious, so the greatest comfort that we bring is often the comfort we know nothing of—not our preaching nor our words of cheer, but the way in which we bear ourselves in life when the burden is heavy and the sky is black. "No man liveth to himself." Let men or women behave gallantly and behave so because they trust in God when life is difficult, when things go wrong, when health is falling, when the grave is opened; and though they may never hear a whisper of it, there are others who are thanking God for them. Every sorrow borne in simple faith is helping other men to bear their sorrows. Every burden victoriously carried is helping men and women to be braver. Every cross, anxiety, foreboding, shining with the serenity of trust, comes like light to those who sit in darkness. People say sometimes, "I would give anything to comfort so and so." Dear friend, if you walk in light and love, you are a comfort when you never know it. And other people, writing their epistle (though it will never be equal to Colossians), will put your name in to your intense surprise and say," You were a comfort unto me." (Devotional Sermons)
The Final Judgment
And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say
unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these
my brethren, ye have done it unto me. Mat 25:40
And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say
unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these
my brethren, ye have done it unto me. Mat 25:40
Some four days before these words were spoken, one of our Lord’s adherents had attempted to set up a rivalry betwixt the claims of his Master and those of the poor, when a warm-hearted woman, moved with gratitude, broke over the feet of Jesus costly spikenard. Judas thought that better use could have been found for the money had it been given in charity. It was then, and it is still, a very false sentiment which would attempt to make competing claims out of what is due to God’s worship on the one hand and to the service of suffering humanity on the other. Such an unseemly competition as this has no real existence. Edward Irving had it engraved on the silver plate of his congregation that when the offerings of the people no longer sufficed for the wants of God’s poor ones, the sacred vessels were to be melted down to supply the deficiency. And he was right; it is the mind of the Master. Christ has expressly transferred to the honest and suffering poor His own claims on the devotion of His people.
Why does Christ thus find His true representatives in men who suffer? It is not a question very easy to answer. If He meant these words to be strictly confined to the pious, then that would be enough—we should not need to inquire further; but I am not at all satisfied that we are entitled to limit His words so narrowly. Am I to ask, “Is this poor creature a Christian?” before I relieve him for Christ’s sake? Or does Jesus not care to reward your kindness if you show it to the unbeliever? We must try to understand on what ground it is that the great Lord of men, the Savior and Friend of all men, identifies Himself with every human being, and with those human beings most of all who are afflicted.
He chose to be Himself a sufferer, poor, and “acquainted with grief”; and, I suppose, the recollection of His own straitened lot will teach Him to care most for those who are in like case.
Our Savior’s design in coming here at all was to be a healer, a rescuer, a comforter for mankind.—He is the ideal Man, the representative Sufferer for all mankind. “Do it to any of them, you do it unto Me.”
(excerpt from J. O. Dykes, D.D.)
Why does Christ thus find His true representatives in men who suffer? It is not a question very easy to answer. If He meant these words to be strictly confined to the pious, then that would be enough—we should not need to inquire further; but I am not at all satisfied that we are entitled to limit His words so narrowly. Am I to ask, “Is this poor creature a Christian?” before I relieve him for Christ’s sake? Or does Jesus not care to reward your kindness if you show it to the unbeliever? We must try to understand on what ground it is that the great Lord of men, the Savior and Friend of all men, identifies Himself with every human being, and with those human beings most of all who are afflicted.
He chose to be Himself a sufferer, poor, and “acquainted with grief”; and, I suppose, the recollection of His own straitened lot will teach Him to care most for those who are in like case.
Our Savior’s design in coming here at all was to be a healer, a rescuer, a comforter for mankind.—He is the ideal Man, the representative Sufferer for all mankind. “Do it to any of them, you do it unto Me.”
(excerpt from J. O. Dykes, D.D.)
The Surprise of the Righteous
These blessed of the Father, brethren of the Son, and heirs of the kingdom, stand amazed that the Son of Man should so overwhelm their trifling services with a glorious reward. Nay, they can hardly recollect any service at all. The ministries were so trifling, and were bestowed on objects so inconsiderable, often with such mixture of bad motives, and such deficiency of good, that it amazes them to find every transient item legible in the book of the Judge, now seated upon the throne of His glory. Mark how He receives them, how He gathers up the bruised, withered, scattered flowers which seemed dying in our hands, and makes of them a garland; binds them on His brow as a diadem; points to them before His angels as an honor. (J. W. Alexander.)
Note: During the years I worked taking care of the elderly, and disabled, many times, I could see the weariness, and loneliness in both the fellow worker's, and the seniors we took care of. Many days and nights would go by for these people, with no visitors, and no contact with family members. They were often left alone, and forgotten by the world outside the walls of their residences.
On these nights, bringing music, some conversation, a gentle act of kindness, cooking something special in the night that they could enjoy at breakfast, like a coffee cake, or muffins, that they could enjoy warm with their coffee, was just a few things I'd do, to try to make their lives brighter, and let them know they mattered, and someone cared. I knew I was doing these things for myself, also, because I often felt helpless, knowing there was nothing else I could do for them, except pray. Those who were very ill, and facing death, were among those that I carried home with me in my heart and mind, many times.
My husband and I also had aging parents then, and we would make sure we called and visited as often as possible, to check on them, and see if there was a change in their health, if they needed anything and spend time with them. Lynn's parents were closer and we could stop in often, and check on them-they looked forward to the visits, and sometimes we'd bring a meal with us, and share it with them. It helped lift their spirits, and would encourage them to share things on their minds, and often stories and memories would be brought out, bringing joy into their lives.
I'd call my mother several times a week, and visit as often as I could, sometimes bringing her home with me, and we'd talk and share events as I drove the 3 hour trip back to my house. Those times meant a lot to her, and now, as I remember them, I know how precious they were to me, even though my days were stretched to the limit to do this. Now, I see the value of the time spent, and how it bonded us as a family, and made memories that can't be replaced. God uses every circumstance in our lives, to bring His love, compassion, and goodness into our lives, if we yield to His will, and allow Him to use us, even in those things we may think are unimportant at the time.
These verses were some I read, and the Lord used to encourage me during those years, and helped me to carry on, knowing that though these simple things done seemed unimportant to the world-God saw it, and knew. That's all that mattered.
You may be reading this, and dealing with situations in your life, the same way. Whatever your facing, whatever simple thing your doing to help and improve someone else's life-it's not in vain. God sees it, and He's keeping the records. One day, you'll see the rewards of every simple act of love and kindness, and every deed done. God sees even a cup of cold water given.
Lorna Couillard
Note: During the years I worked taking care of the elderly, and disabled, many times, I could see the weariness, and loneliness in both the fellow worker's, and the seniors we took care of. Many days and nights would go by for these people, with no visitors, and no contact with family members. They were often left alone, and forgotten by the world outside the walls of their residences.
On these nights, bringing music, some conversation, a gentle act of kindness, cooking something special in the night that they could enjoy at breakfast, like a coffee cake, or muffins, that they could enjoy warm with their coffee, was just a few things I'd do, to try to make their lives brighter, and let them know they mattered, and someone cared. I knew I was doing these things for myself, also, because I often felt helpless, knowing there was nothing else I could do for them, except pray. Those who were very ill, and facing death, were among those that I carried home with me in my heart and mind, many times.
My husband and I also had aging parents then, and we would make sure we called and visited as often as possible, to check on them, and see if there was a change in their health, if they needed anything and spend time with them. Lynn's parents were closer and we could stop in often, and check on them-they looked forward to the visits, and sometimes we'd bring a meal with us, and share it with them. It helped lift their spirits, and would encourage them to share things on their minds, and often stories and memories would be brought out, bringing joy into their lives.
I'd call my mother several times a week, and visit as often as I could, sometimes bringing her home with me, and we'd talk and share events as I drove the 3 hour trip back to my house. Those times meant a lot to her, and now, as I remember them, I know how precious they were to me, even though my days were stretched to the limit to do this. Now, I see the value of the time spent, and how it bonded us as a family, and made memories that can't be replaced. God uses every circumstance in our lives, to bring His love, compassion, and goodness into our lives, if we yield to His will, and allow Him to use us, even in those things we may think are unimportant at the time.
These verses were some I read, and the Lord used to encourage me during those years, and helped me to carry on, knowing that though these simple things done seemed unimportant to the world-God saw it, and knew. That's all that mattered.
You may be reading this, and dealing with situations in your life, the same way. Whatever your facing, whatever simple thing your doing to help and improve someone else's life-it's not in vain. God sees it, and He's keeping the records. One day, you'll see the rewards of every simple act of love and kindness, and every deed done. God sees even a cup of cold water given.
Lorna Couillard
