In a few stolen moments this week I sat and read a bit from JRR Miller.  He spoke of friends of St Paul and how the apostle described them as "men that have been a comfort unto me." He went on to say:

"The friends that Paul names were a comfort to him, because they sympathized with him with a sympathy that was not obtrusive, not officious, not always reminding him of his chain and prison—but that manifested itself in quiet, unostentatious, inspiring ways. The word comfort is from a root-word which means to strengthen. It is like our noun cordial, in its old sense, something that invigorates, exhilarates; something that stimulates the circulation, making the pulses quicker, the life fuller. Paul's friends were a cordial to him, not lessening his sufferings nor lightening his burdens—but making him braver and stronger for endurance. They were a comfort to him."

We can't solve all the problems.  We don't have all the answers.  Can we be of any help even when we aren't able to fix a thing?  These are questions I continually return to.  The older I get the more I am coming to appreciate the gifts of comfort and strength, both in gratefully receiving them and offering whatever we can back out to others.  JRR Miller reminds us also that we need not look too far abroad in this vocation:

"There really is no higher attainment in life—than that of being a blessing to others in one's own place. Those who live thus gently, thoughtfully, beautifully—will always be a comfort to others with whom they live"