The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me,
for the Lord has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted
and to proclaim that captives will be released
and prisoners will be freed.
He has sent me to tell those who mourn
that the time of the Lord’s favour has come,
(Isaiah 61:1-2 NLT)
What becomes of the broken-hearted? This was a good lyric in a decent song from yesteryear, but it’s a good question to ask today. Those with broken hearts are not devastated solely because a romantic arrangement has been halted. The broken-hearted covers those who suffer the pain of loss, are hit by the betrayal of a close friend, see hopes and dreams shattered, go through immense physical and emotional trauma, and experience a sense of isolation. The broken heart is rooted in that sense in which wrong has happened and inflicted something so painful that many don’t recover.
God can relate to the broken-hearted. Seeing His creation rebel against Him was not something He reacted to unemotionally. Watching His creation corrupt and pollute the earth with their violence and other expressions of wickedness did not leave Him unmoved in His heart.
This makes all the more remarkable the profound significance of Christ’s ministry in “comforting the brokenhearted”. It stands as a central thread through the tapestry of redemption, expressing the heart of a God who chooses proximity to pain, and who, in Jesus, offers comfort not as mere sentiment, but as transformative presence.
It begins with the announcement: “He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted…” (Isaiah 61:1, ESV; echoed in Luke 4:18, ESV). In Christ, we see this prophecy fulfilled. The Saviour does not shy from those who are wounded; rather, He draws near. The gospels record, with stirring clarity, that Jesus’ own earthly pilgrimage was marked by grief and sorrow—He was “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3, ESV). He wept at Lazarus’ tomb (John 11:35, ESV), and was deeply troubled in the Garden (Matthew 26:38, ESV). Yet, through these moments, He demonstrated that no one is immune from heartbreak and that the deepest comfort flows from shared suffering.
Jesus embodied comfort through word and deed. He restored hope to the widow mourning her only son (Luke 7:12-15, ESV), reached out to the rejected and the broken—a woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-11, ESV), the leper cast out (Mark 1:40-42, ESV)—and offered words of assurance to those crushed by anxiety and despair (“Do not be afraid, only believe”—Mark 5:36, ESV). For the mourners, He promised divine consolation: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matthew 5:4, ESV). Whether healing, forgiving, or simply weeping with those who weep, Christ’s pattern was clear: comfort involves action, presence, and restoration.
Turning to the early church, the apostolic witness further elevates comforting the brokenhearted to a mark of true Christian fellowship. The community at Jerusalem “shared all things in common…as any had need” (Acts 2:44-45, ESV), ministering to those whose lives had been devastated by loss. The apostle Paul, well acquainted with suffering, writes: “Blessed be…the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction…” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4, ESV). This establishes a generational cycle of comfort—the comfort we receive from God equips us to comfort others.
Church history echoes this call with persistent clarity. The earliest Christians risked their safety to bury plague victims and care for those whom society abandoned. Bishops and communities reserved special ministry for orphans, widows, and those bereft by life’s trials. Over the centuries, ministries emerged—hospices, shelters, and counselling services—each an outpost of divine comfort. Saints and reformers, laying aside anger and judgment, became agents of healing in a broken world. Even now, Christian communities gather around those who grieve, weep, and seek fresh hope, living out the words: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18, ESV).
True comfort is more than soothing words or sympathy. It is solidarity with suffering, the restoration of joy, and the promise of beauty for ashes (Isaiah 61:3, ESV). Through Christ, the early church, and the witness of history, we see that comforting the brokenhearted is inseparable from authentic discipleship—evidence of God’s Spirit at work among us.
In light of Jesus’ service to comfort the brokenhearted, the challenge for those who follow Jesus is to reflect this in our own actions. How do we engage with and interact with those who are devastated and hurting around us? How do we follow the leading of the Spirit to come alongside them and demonstrate the divine comfort that makes a difference?
For His Name’s Sake
C. L. J. Dryden
Shalom
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