Here in the
And now, as three-day-old piles of grey-white snow melt into
dry Midwestern earth, the weatherman warns: another blizzard’s coming.
On this grey Monday morning the news anchors showed grocery
isles empty of bread and milk and the hardware stores low on salt. And
everybody showed up at the gym today, even the once-a-weeker’s. And at 10:30am
the library parking lot was full of last-minute-checker-outers.
And now we sit at home with our bread, milk, salt, and library
books waiting for the second storm. And some, like me, wonder if that
weatherman’s forecast is all it’s cracked up to be. But one thing is sure: if the
storm rails in the night, we are ready to face it with our bread, milk, salt,
and library books, or so we think.
As we wait for second-storm, I can’t help but think about
real-life storms, the kind you can’t predict and aren’t prepared for, can never
prepare for. The kind of storms that sudden-fall in the Dr.’s office, or with a
phone call in the night, or the unexpected email in the inbox, or that meeting
with the boss, or when your child scary-cries in the night . . . .
And how do you stay calm, when you’re in the eye of the
storm and you didn’t see it coming?
I’ve tried throwing scripture at the storm—telling God what he should do for me— as
if I could control Him. You said you
would protect me . . . you said that if I obey your commands I’ll enjoy peace .
. .
I’ve tried fighting the storm by researching the living hell
out of it—thinking that if I just know
all there is to know, I can beat it
or find a way out.
And I’ve tried the grin-and-bear-it-till-the-end
approach, which left me weak and bitter in the eye of the storm.
It wasn’t until I came to the end of myself that I realized:
self-striving won’t calm the storm ‘cause only Jesus calms storms.
And I realized: in the midst of the storm, this wayward
heart forgets that Jesus is beside me, inside me. My I-can-fix-this self-reliance
blinds me to the only real solution
to raging storms: lived-out faith in the storm-calming power of my Father-God.
And this lived-out faith relinquishes pride and lets Him
calm the storm , ‘cause even the wind and the waves obey Him.
And even when He’s silent in the midst of the storm—when I
think He’s sleeping or ignoring me--He’s there and he’s saying, “Take courage. I am with you. Don’t be afraid.”
It’s only when I let go of self that I hear His voice in the
midst of the storm.
It’s only when I call “Lord save me!” that I feel peace in
the midst of the storm.
It’s only when He saves me that I stop fighting and accept the storm, “considering it pure
joy” because I know storm-testing produces perseverance and perseverance Hope.
So in the midst of today’s and tomorrow’s storms, let’s
humble ourselves and hope in Him who holds the power to calm the storm in His time, in His way, when our hearts are fully His.
“Let us learn the lesson: the highest holiness is the deepest humility .
. . It is indeed blessed, the deep happiness of heaven, to be so free from self
that whatever is said of us or done to us is lost and swallowed up in the
thought that Jesus is all.”
(Andrew Murray in Humility)
