I Will Refuse to be Comforted

Have you ever thrown yourself a major pity party? Just metaphorically purchased all the soggy confetti and filled a pinata with nothing but raw cauliflower and poison ivy? I have. Sometimes it feels good to just wallow in the rain until you get emotional hypothermia. Sometimes misery feels good. And sometimes, with the way the world is, we may even feel like misery is noble. That being constantly angry or bitter or heartbroken because of the evil and cruel and unjust things we see on the news and all over social media is the only appropriate response. How could we possibly feel light or lovestruck or giddy or accomplished or blessed or grateful or adventurous or charitable or happy when there are so many who do not? How could we see that headline or watch that video or hear what happened in that country/state and go on with our day with any semblance of normalcy?

I felt that this week.

I stumbled upon a report of something so vile, so incomprehensible that it made me physically ill all day. My stomach could not settle, and neither could my mind. And my poor heart felt so, so heavy. I was on edge and it showed in my parenting all day and in how I spoke to my husband when he got home from work. I didn't even want to go play volleyball that night as planned. I didn't want to eat. It may not have been a pity party, but the misery was flowing and I had the visceral urge to move my family to a remote plot of land where we had no internet and just a corded home phone. Or maybe I would put my foot down and homeschool all of my children because absolutely no way would I send them out into the world if the world was going to slap me with headlines that made my skin crawl. And images that I wish I could scrub from my brain. And atrocities that made me keep a bowl near me all day.

So, yeah, that happened.

But God has the most impeccable timing. One might call it divine; I sure would.

You see, for the whole of 2026, my church is doing a week-by-week deep dive into The Old Testament of the Bible. Genesis straight through to Malachi. And, what do ya know, the same week that I have this day of absolute misery and find myself feeling like there is no point in feeling joy or going on a bike ride with my son or coloring a butterfly with my daughter or playing peek-a-boo with my baby if the world will just inevitably be cruel and unfair and evil and the very worst of people will evade every rightful punishment that should be on their heads (okay, my Enneagram 8 is showing), THAT VERY SAME WEEK we are studying about the time of Noah.

A time when the people of the earth are so wicked, that it would be more merciful for God to flood the place and press the reset button. A time when "every imagination of thoughts of man's heart was only evil continually" (Genesis 6:5, KJV). When the Lord Himself, one with an eternal lens, one who can see things, even atrocious and unjust things, as part of a greater whole, grieved.

In the Book of Moses, we read of an exchange between the Lord and the prophet Enoch. Enoch's righteous city is taken up unto God and the Lord and Enoch have a conversation regarding the wickedness of the world during after his own time. The state of the world is such that Enoch weeps violently. Verse 44 reads: And as Enoch saw this, he had bitterness of soul, and wept over his brethren, and said unto the heavens: I will refuse to be comforted (Moses 7:44, The Pearl of Great Price).

Nothing could more poignantly convey how I felt.

I had bitterness of soul. I wept. I vehemently refused to be comforted. My prayers were angry and pleading and frustrated as I mentally started to tally every absurdly awful thing that has happened in just the last 6 months. My soul felt anxious, restless, hopeless. And if I'm completely honest, it felt kind of good to be miserable and mad.

But I think that's because those feelings were the path of least resistance. It felt easy.

But then there is God's response to Enoch's refusal of comfort.

"...but the Lord said unto Enoch: Lift up your heart, and be glad; and look" (Moses 7:44, The Pearl of Great Price).

And do you wanna know what Enoch saw? Because he did lift up his head. He did look.

He saw Noah.

He saw a man described as "a just man perfect in his generations" who "walked with God" (Genesis 6:9, KJV). A man who preached repentance and faith but was ignored and even mocked. A man commanded to build an ark, with freakishly specific measurements, so that he and his family might be spared. Three levels. Sealed up from the elements and destruction of the world outside with pitch on the exterior as well as the interior. A man with whom God would establish his covenant (Genesis 6:14-18, KJV). A man who could be preserved so that he might preserve the ways of God, His teachings and His promises, and serve as almost a new Adam for the world once the flood subsided.

Enoch saw hope for the world in Noah.

artwork by TheCredos Art Gallery

God showed him the portion spared from the flood, the portion who clung to righteousness and entered into a covenant via the ark with their Maker. That covenant preserved them. Guarded them and sealed them in safety when all around storms raged and waves crashed.

And so, like Enoch, I looked.

I looked at family, friends, neighbors, a portion all around me choosing righteousness and goodness in yet another decaying time.

I saw my little boy who wanted to ride his bike and my little girl coloring her butterfly and my baby playing peek-a-boo. Kids who live in a time when, even though evil is very real and runs rampant, they can be raised to know God, to choose God, and to enter into a covenant with Him to continually do so. Kids who live in a home that we can seal up with pitch on the inside and outside to keep the raging storms and crashing waves out. Kids that don't need to be hidden away on some remote homestead where I can lock the world out in a very literal sense, but who need to be raised in the world with hearts and minds sealed up to God to keep the world out of it. Who can grow up to lead others to God, to goodness, to kindness, to God's protective "ark" of covenants that He still offers today.

I saw my husband, a just man who strives to walk with God and lead our family with the Spirit.

I looked at my scriptures that teach me and warn me. That show a pattern of God repeatedly calling a prophet to be his mouthpiece and guide each and every single generation through their own specific spiritual flood. I looked at the prophet of the earth today and turned to some of his most recent words and counsel.

I looked to my Savior, Jesus Christ. Of whom, Noah is a type and a shadow. One who beckons to us and leads us to an "ark" of safety and refuge. One who still sees with an eternal lens beyond the now and invites us to see the same. One who will come again.

And now? I refuse to join the misery club. I refuse to get so stuck in that easy misery that I miss out on the endless opportunities to flood the earth with light and goodness and God. I refuse not to see the endless number of people choosing love and kindness every single day. I refuse to not rejoice in the good news of repentance and salvation. I refuse to not be comforted in Christ.