NONFICTION
Facing the Storm: A Time to Rest
You can hear it, can’t you? Just like I have so many times in my life, you can hear the wind of the approaching storm. Its roar, though at a distance yet, still makes your heart beat fast with dread. Hoping against all hope that the storm will not come near, you swallow hard and pray.
But the wind still howls. Louder, you think. And closer now. A gust of air brushes against your face.
No, it can’t be!
You scan the horizon. The dark clouds are gathering quickly. So quickly!
Where did they come from? It was so clear and sunny! This is very unexpected. There was no warning. And now, there is no doubt. The storm will come. And it will come for you.
You lose your footing and begin bobbing in the water. The shore is no longer in reach.
Oh, no! The waves!
At first, they move you only slightly. It’s scary, though. You have no control. Then the wind, with a force that takes your breath, slams your face into the surging water around you, and, instinctively, you begin to fight with every bit of strength you possess. Your head surfaces momentarily. You gasp for air. Another larger wave sends you back under. Slapping at the water, you thrash about. And the more you thrash, the deeper you go under.
If you had air enough, you would scream. Scream to God, Why am I in this storm? Deliver me, Lord! Deliver me! But you can’t scream. And, in your head, you hear your own thoughts say, I will not survive.
Driven down deep under the swirling water, you lift your bleary, stinging, water-covered eyes to heaven, and your heart cries, Where are you, God? Where are you? Don’t you see me? Oh, please! See me!
And there in the depths, suspended in the thickness of dark water, exhausted from fighting and with your strength all used up, you go limp. Your body hangs there motionless. There’s nothing you can do. Nothing to see. Nothing to hear. Just nothing. The fight inside you subsides. And you surrender to stillness.
Then with lungs ready to burst and the last moments of consciousness slipping from your grasp, you feel a strong surge from the cavernous deep sweep against your limbs. Its force is so great, you are sure it will be the last motion you are able to sense. But instead of forcing your limp body deeper into the depths, this surge begins to push you upward.
What is happening?
You feel the water rushing across your face as you all but shoot to the surface. Your head bobs up into the air. Rain is pouring. It pelts your face. The wind howls, but at last you can breathe. The waves pound against you, but you do not fight. Instead, you tilt your head back, lift your face up, and float with the movement of the water. You fill your lungs with the rain-soaked air. And, as if supported on unseen arms, you rest on the waves. And in resting you are carried along. Carried, without even knowing it, toward the very shore of safety you fought so hard to reach.
***
When they come, the storms of this life, without a doubt, test our faith. We say we trust God (Psalm 56:3). We say we believe He is always with us (Deuteronomy 31:8). We say that, as His children, we believe He is working all things for our good (Romans 8:28). But then when a brutal, earth-shaking storm blows full force into our lives, demanding that we put our faith into action, it’s not always so easy. Storms can make our hearts tremble. Our knees buckle. Our prayers become gut-wrenching cries for deliverance. There’s nothing like a storm to remind us of our weakness and how much we need the strength of our Savior.
The storms we face will always be bigger than we are. But they will never be bigger than the One who commands the waves. No storm, even if fueled by the demonic fires of Hell itself, will ever come close to the power of the One who loves us with an everlasting love.
Roman nails didn’t hold Jesus on that cross. His love for us held Him there. And we can be assured that, when we face the threatening elements of a ravaging storm, we are not alone. We may not see how He is protecting and providing as we are tossed around in the turbulent sea. We may not feel His presence as the wind and rain gust against our fragile frames. We may think we are finished. Forgotten. That God has turned His back on us just when we need Him most. We may scream and cry at the gates of Heaven begging for answers as to why the storm has come upon us. Yet, all the while, the One who loves us most has our situation well in hand. He has not forgotten us. He has not looked away. He has not turned a deaf ear to our pleading cries. We can trust His heart of love for us. And in trusting, we can cease our thrashing and allow ourselves to be carried through the storm resting in the arms of infinite love.
Lea Gillespie Gant is a children’s book author for Thomas Nelson Publishing, having written the children’s book Never Say Goodbye. She has written for various publications, including The Saturday Evening Post, Broadview Magazine, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Deep South Magazine, East of the Web, and Agape Review.
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Image: Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee by Ludolf Bakhuizen, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
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