Today’s offertory is a savory morsel. It’s one of those anthems that seems to suspend time and linger in the air. The tenors begin the piece, seemingly out of nowhere, as if to say there is a hushed secret to tell. When you begin this piece, you have to take great care not to disturb the silence. But that’s the secret – don’t disturb the silence. Comfort is elusive, hiding in stillness, and abiding in the epicenter. That peace is how you let go. It’s not in the outer bands, where the illusion of control seems to hide – good/evil; right/wrong; and all other dualities that cause distress.

Most people say, “God is good” when all is well, circumstantially. And then, when the storm hits and all hell breaks loose, they say “O my God, what will we do?” Is God only good until the stock market crashes; until there is a health problem; or until our political opponent wins? Comfort and anxiety cannot both be truth principles that flutter back and forth. One must be an imposter.   

Your greater sensibilities never leave you, unless you lose your head and drift out to sea, saying things you regret or letting anger and angst overtake you. The “secret” to find the anchor of peace is to remain in the silent center, to not get caught by the storm. Titcomb sets up our ear perfectly for this truth. It’s good news! To get back to the nature of comfort that Jesus speaks of, we must be comported. That’s the secret – quietness itself.

When you understand, the rejoicing is subtle. The music always stays close to the bosom of peace, never “out there,” bombastic and furious. Ironically, when Jesus preached, he never asked the people, “Is everyone comfortable?” He never took customer-service satisfaction surveys to see if he offended anybody. He stirred up more trouble than anyone in Western Civilization, but he never meant creature comforts in this passage. Are you afraid of not getting your way? Are you afraid to be offended? In that fear, we try to build up comfort in futile ways – with gated communities, political majorities, full bank accounts, and heated toilet seats. We have what seems to be a lot of external comforts, yet internally, we’re as uncomfortable, miserable, and scared as ever!

This offertory piece has that wonderful, calming effect and helps us to remember that real comfort transcends the illusion of exterior control. If you’re way offshore in the tumult of the winds, a few plush pillows, a full bank account, a political majority, and a heated toilet seat won’t do you any good! What’s the secret? While everyone else is flailing in the storm trying to put the world right-side up so they can be comfortable, return to the “I,” the epicenter and be comforting to others and yourself at all times.

That secret, quiet hiding place is how you can let go, and to allow what is to be what is. That abdication of illusory control is the key to the peaceable kingdom. Then you can rejoice because you know “the secret.” The storm can go where it wants. You’re in the eye, nestled safely, moving in tandem with it. That doesn’t mean you don’t engage with life, it’s that you don’t let life engage you into a fury of fear, pulling you off center. Be the “Center I” of the spirit, that’s the foundation of trust that never leaves you comfortless, even in a storm. Always stay in the center – grounded, quiet, and free from any disturbance of the outer fringe. Soli Deo Gloria!