The drive to an appointment a couple days ago proved to be rather interesting. Lots of humidity, pop up thunderstorms, along with the assorted effects of passing weather systems are not unusual for mid-August in my neck of the woods.
A few sprinkles hit my windshield within moments of leaving the house. Before I reached the first main street, I scrambled to put my wipers on full as the heavens opened up with a gush of water and made visibility a challenge. Minutes later—back to a heavy sprinkle. Followed by a light mist. And then nothing. Fuzzy sunshine. All in less than half hour. Same thing happened on the return drive home.
As I stood in front of the window later that day and watched yet another downpour, it got me to thinking about the similarities of nature’s events with our unique journey through this life.
Some “storms” kiss our faces with a damp mist. These tend to come and go without much of an interruption. Maybe we need to reschedule a lunch with a friend. Patiently accept a delay in the receipt of a package. Find a good time to respond to a missed phone call.
Some “storms” splatter us with a light shower. These may linger a bit and we may need to make a couple of adjustments. Maybe reduce the number and cost of the amenities for a remodeling project. Or ask for help with a sick child. Or talk with a neighbor about a large old tree that creaks and groans as it threatens to topple on our vehicles and driveway.
Some “storms”—the ones we most fear—nearly blind us with their unexpectedness or intensity. Most people have experienced, or know someone who has, the scary news of a cancer diagnosis. Or the meeting with the boss that the company is eliminating certain positions. Maybe the concerned voice of the banker that you could lose your home to foreclosure.
I’ve lived long enough to have gotten damp or soaked through by a variety of life storms. I will be the first to tell you God has worked through these challenges and difficulties to heal and restore my sense of peace and well-being.
I will also be the first to tell you that the last thing any of us need is someone patting our hand and telling us everything will be alright. The intention is good. At the same time, how you and I define “alright” is unique to each of us and our circumstances.
Here’s what that rainy morning drive did reaffirm for me: storms of any kind do not last. While that is small consolation in the moment—and that’s okay—sunshine, peace, and joy may just be over the next hill. The key is to persevere. Trust God. Take one tiny step forward, even if that means pulling off to the side of the road for a few minutes until the skies clear and we can see the path once again.
Do I sense God’s presence in the storms of my life?
How do I feel when a storm hits? Fearful? Faith-filled?
Can I trust God to help me pass through the storm?
