Holding Hands, Our High Priest, part one

Sometimes the earth is the only comfort left.  You slump down on the ground and cry "Abba, Father, Oh help my battered soul.  Heal my wounded spirit and clean me! Dust is what I am and to this dust I return."

Those are solitary times, and comfort is not found in crowds, friends or loved ones.  If you lay there long enough the sky grows dark, the temperature drops and the dew mingles with your tears.  As your hand clutches another fistful of Earth you are startled to feel flesh, soft and warm flesh.  Then you know that in that night without light, Jesus has been laying in the dirt with you. "He went a little further, and fell on His face, and prayed." (Matthew 26:39)  Oh, the dawn may not rise and the murky night may deepen, but Jesus is right there, for He is not a "High Priest which cannot be touched with the feelings of our infirmities..." (Hebrews 4:15)  And all through the remaining darkness you hold hands with Comfort.