It's well past 2 AM.
I'm on Debby Downer, Tropical Storm watch.
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We’re at our family place on Sunset.
Debby is stubbornly hanging tight over the line of North and South Carolina. I can hear the wind loudly wail and scream like a banshee. I’ve never listened to a banshee wail, but my imagination says it would sound like this tempestuous wail. When the rain lets up, I go out on the porch and walk to the boardwalk to take in the waves. It's beyond dark. The only light is the random flashlight of another awe-chaser. Well, that and the dispersing light when the lightning hits the ocean. The wail is getting louder, more eerily pronounced. It isn’t raining yet, but it’ll quickly turn and pummel us. It’s desperate and like it is staking its claim, planting its flag.
Oddly, it's comforting.
I am not belittling the destruction or devastation involved. Yet, firsthand seeing such a raw and wild display of God's creative and sovereign power is settling. Here I sit, reading my 90-day Bible plan in the middle of the night, listening to the growing choir of Debby's howl. When the rain lets up, I go on the back porch, watch the palms and every hatch that isn't battened down sway, and hang on by the roots for dear life.
I've been thinking about Jesus as the storm rolls in today.
Not the gentle Jesus, meek and mild portrait, the Caucasian boy band look with the blue eyes and fair non-Mediterranean sash, but the wild, awkward, twenty-going on thirty-year-old still single son of a carpenter from Nazareth, 100% Jewish Jesus.
The wind sounds like it is going to knock down the back door. The neighbor's American flag rope is clanging against the pole's metal in a rhythmic, half-melody, half-cacaphony. It’s 2:32.
Jesus has unlimited power under control and is, at the same time, the embodiment of grace and truth. He is the prime paradox. He embodies the Father in the flesh—the Logos of God. The expression is the exact representation of the Father.
and He is asleep.
The wind howls.
The waves crash.
Were decibels a thing? I imagine it was loud. The meter was off the charts here.
The waves are magnificently massive too. Forget the peaceful ebb and flow from a few hours ago. We’re talking wave upon crashing wave, growing larger and looming taller with each raucous crash upon the battered sand. They’re still only visible, only revealed to the eye by the chaos of each lightning bolt.
The night is dark. The footing of the next step is unsure.
It is seemingly taking advantage of my imagination. I should have brought a light. I should have put on a shirt and worn shoes too.
Alight, something has to give.
We're all going to die. Someone has to wake up Jesus. Who is going to wake up Jesus? How could He sleep in this gale while we hang on for dear life? We’ve seen Jesus heal a lame man lowered through a roof by his friends. We’ve considered whether it is better to heal the physical or raise the spiritual. Demons, they’ve cowered at His authority, and we’ve seen and heard it. But has Jesus healed a boat yet? This little lady is about to give up the ghost and us with it in this storm!
What about the mission? I thought we were here to do something. We gave it all up to follow Him. We cast our nets and our way of life aside. We were anticipating something huge because of all of these signs and wonders. His teaching has authority. It packs a punch that no one else has been able to pack. Yet, this is how it ends--a shrieking wind, strobe light on strobe light if we knew what those were so that we could compare them to the inundating lightning flashes, anticipating the following stark visual. And the howling, not even a light show, and our gasps and screams to keep our boat afloat didn’t wake Jesus.
Jesus was asleep on a cushion.
"Though oceans roar,
You are the LORD of all
The one who calms the wind
and waves and makes my heart be still
Though the Earth gives way, the mountains move into the sea
The nations rage; I know my God is in control
LORD of Hosts,
You're with us...
As the storms like Tropical Storm Debby Downer bear down on you, saint, know that the Lord of Hosts is with you.
Yep, it’s now 2:40 as there is now a tornado warning for my crew. Yes, the wind is shouting, staking her claim. The terror of the night and the thought of what could be out there that is revealed with every flash of lightning, in everything (wailing wind included) by prayer and supplication, present your request to God...
He may pull a "Peace be still!" He may arouse from slumber and authoritatively speak, bidding the wind and storm, “Peace be still” while also calling out your lack of faith. He may masterfully guard your heart and mind, giving you peace in Christ Jesus. He may call you to change the way you think about things like Philippians 4:8 says. Even more, perhaps the most glorious progression of your response in the howling wind and magnanimous wave crashing movement, saint, is our moving from pray to think and then think to practice like Philippians 4 talks about.
May your wailing wind, crashing lighting, and flash flood storms lead you to pray so that the peace of God guards your heart and mind in Christ Jesus. From that state, may you think differently, joining with God’s guarding of your heart so that your mind is guarded too. As you do that, may you then put that “God is in control” peace that passes all understanding into practice. May it change the way you live your life, saint. May it change your marriage, parenting, and relationships in your vocation. May you put that into practice to change your perspective and the eternity of someone who has built their house upon the sand. Whew, those winds and rains came… May our prayer, thinking, and practice be used by our sovereign peace that passes all understanding of a God to relocate many people from foundations of sand to the solid, sturdy foundation of the Rock of Ages.
I'll update you later. It sounds like we've got a leak and a breach in the kitchen's literal wall. I'll let you know how it turns out. You let me know how that storm turns out, too, Saint.
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