There are Storms

            Occasionally I will pull a random book from my shelf and find where I have folded down a page and just start reading. This was one of those mornings and its so amazing how God uses everything to speak to where you are! The following is my version of what I read in, "The Eye of the Storm" by Max Lucado and some of my commentary also.

            There are lightning storms. There are rainstorms. There are snowstorms. And there are doubtstorms.

            Every so often a doubtstorm rolls into my life, bringing with it a flurry of questions and gale-force winds of fear. And, soon after it comes, a light shines through it.

            Sometimes the storm comes after the evening news. Some nights I wonder why I watch it. Some nights it’s just too much. From the steps of the Supreme Court to the steppes of South Africa, the news is usually gloomy… thirty minutes of bite-sized tragedies. A handsome man or attractive woman in a nice suit with a warm voice gives bad news. They call him or her the “anchor”. Good title. One needs an anchor in today’s choppy waters.

            Sometimes I wonder, How can my world get so chaotic?

            Sometimes the storm comes when I’m at work. Story after story of homes that won’t heal and hearts that won’t melt. Always more hunger than food. More needs than money. More questions than answers. On Sunday’s I stand before a church with a three-point outline in my hand, thirty minutes on the clock, and a prayer on my lips. I do my best to convince a stranger that an unseen God still hears.

            And I sometimes wonder why so many hearts have to hurt. Sometimes I wonder why my heart has to hurt.

            Do you ever get doubtstorms? Some of you don’t, I know. I’ve talked to you. Some of you have “Davidish” optimism that defies any Goliath. I used to think that you were naïve at best and phony at worst.

            I don’t think so anymore.

            I think that you are gifted. You are gifted with faith. You can see the rainbow before the clouds part. If you have this gift, then don’t even bother reading the rest. I can’t write anything that you need to hear.

            But others of you wonder…

            You wonder what others know that you don’t. You wonder if you are blind or if they are. You wonder why some proclaim “Eureka” before the gold is found. You wonder why some proclaim, “Land ho” before the fog has cleared. You wonder how some people believe so confidently while you believe so reluctantly.

            As a result, you are a bit uncomfortable on the padded pew of blind belief. Your bible hero is Thomas and your middle name is Caution. Your queries are the thorns of every Sunday school teacher’s backside.

            “If God is so good, why do I feel so bad?”

            “If his message is so clear, why do I get so confused?”

            “If the Father is in control, why do good people have gut-wrenching problems?”

            You wonder if it is a blessing or a curse to have a mind that never rests. But you would rather be a cynic than a hypocrite, so you continue to pray with one eye open and wonder:

·        about starving children

·        about the power of prayer

·        about the depths of grace

·        about Christians in cancer wards

·        about who you are to ask such questions anyway

Tough questions. Throw-in-the-towel questions. Questions the disciples must have asked in the storm.

            Their question – What hope do we have of surviving a stormy night?

            My question – Where is God when the world is stormy?

            Doubtstorms: turbulent days when the enemy is too big, the task too great, the hurt too deep, and the answers too few.

            Every so often a storm will come, and I’ll look up into the black sky and say, “God, a little light please?”

            The light came for the disciples. It was walking on the water and that is not where they expected their help to come from. And since Jesus came in a way they didn’t expect, they almost missed seeing the answer to their prayers.

            And unless we look and listen closely, we risk making the same mistake. God’s light in our dark nights are as numerous as the stars, if we only look for them.

            Let me share a few light with you…

            ** I’m sitting with a young couple talking about how they recently made a decision to try and do what’s right so they could raise their 8-year-old daughter in a good home. They got married, started coming to church, built some key relationships, and then two weeks ago, both of them made a decision to surrender their lives to Christ. As I listen to their story I realized that no one manipulated them or tricked them. They wanted something better for their daughter and found something better for themselves. The sky began to clear.

            ** Light number two came from a conversation with a couple that had been married for 35 years. He was sick and she was caring for him. He used to take care of everything in their marriage from finances to yard work. Now, he can’t even take care of himself so she has stepped in. She told me that she never realized what a blessing he was until he wasn’t able to do basic things anymore. She said that she was going to spend the rest of her life showing him how much appreciation she felt for him. Then she looked across the kitchen table at him and he was smiling but there was a watery substance leaking from his eyes that don’t see so well anymore.

            Small lights. Gentle lights. God’s solution for doubtstorms. Gold-flecked glows that amber hope into blackness. Not thunderbolts. Not explosions of light. Just gentle lights. A family choosing to stay together instead of breaking apart. A wife choosing to give when there is nothing left to receive.

            Visible reminders of the invisible hand.

            Soft reminders that optimism isn’t just for fools.

            When the disciples saw Jesus in the middle of their stormy night, they called him a ghost. A phantom. A hallucination. To them, the glow was anything but God.

            When we see gentle lights on the horizon, we often have the same reaction. We dismiss occasional kindness as apparitions, accidents, or anomalies. Anything but God.

            “When Jesus comes,” the disciples in boat may have thought, “he’ll split the sky. The sea will be calm and the clouds will disperse.”

            “When God comes,” we doubters think, “all pain will flee. Life will be tranquil. No questions will remain.”

            Not so. Listen for the whisper. Watch for the spark. For in these small happenings is where God comes and through whispered promises he speaks: “When you doubt, look around; I am closer than you think.”