It is winter in Pennsylvania. One of my favorite things is to sit inside and watch a beautiful snowfall. To see the world transformed right before my eyes. I love going outside in the snow: walking, playing with the dogs, even sledding. I just don’t want to be outside for long during a storm. I’d rather watch from the comfort of my living room, tucked under a blanket.
And honestly, I’d prefer to be a watcher of life’s storms rather than a participant. Because truth be told, I don’t usually have the best initial response when I find myself facing a storm. I have always been an emotional reactor. Before the logical part of my brain can engage, the emotional piece runs circles spewing what ifs, worse-case scenarios, and a litany of “whoa is me.” And everything in my being tells me to run or hunker down and hide. Maybe, just maybe, the storm will roll over me and I’ll come out unscathed.
I’m a cow. Yeah, you read that right. I’m a cow. Let me explain. Cows can sense when a storm is coming and from what direction. So, if a storm is coming from the west, cows will run to the east to get away. For non-rural folks out there, cows are not exactly fast. They are more lumbering. They tend to meander. Cows can run on average 17 MPH, but only in short bursts. They cannot keep that pace for long periods of time. And they tend to run only when they are startled by something or when they are happy – like when it’s time to eat! Again, I’m kinda like a cow.
The problem with this approach is that the storm eventually catches up, usually quickly. The cows continue to try to outrun the storm, but they are actually running with the storm. They are maximizing their exposure, time, pain, and frustration. They are working against themselves and in favor of the storm. And they risk exposing themselves to other dangers such as lightning strikes, flooding, and injury.
Contrast that with the mighty and impressive buffalo. When a storm is approaching, they run directly into it. This may seem counterintuitive but stay with me. It actually makes a lot of sense. By running toward the storm, the buffalo can get through it more quickly. They also minimize their exposure to the most dangerous parts of the storm, such as the leading edge where the winds are strongest.
I want to be a buffalo. I want to charge into storms intuitively knowing that I will come through. That while the discomfort will be real, maybe even painful, it will be short-lived. Knowing that when I emerge from the other side, I will be stronger. Wiser.
IF.
If I trust that the one who creates the storms can silence the storms. And if He chooses not to, will carry me through them. If I run into the storm with confidence that Jesus runs before me. If I run into the storm trusting Him to keep me safe and teach me the lessons, I need to learn to better serve Him.
In Matthew 8:23-27, we read the well-known account of Jesus calming the storm. “Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm. The men were amazed and asked, “What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!”
The Greek word for storm used in this scripture is megas meaning violent, intense, large, greatest. The English prefix mega (megastore, megaphone, etc.) is derived from this Greek word. The word used for “swept over” is kalyptō. It means to cover, veil, hide. So, this wasn’t just some little storm that churned up some whitecaps. This was a storm so violent it concealed the boat and all in it. And yet in the storm, Jesus slept. Maybe He was just really tired? Or maybe Jesus knew there was nothing to fear for His Father in Heaven controls all storms. And when we call on Him, He will calm the waves and quiet the winds.
Unfortunately, most storms in our lives aren’t quieted instantly. But, in the appointed time, God will restore calm. Psalm 107:28-30 reminds us, “Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out of their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed. They were glad when it grew calm, and he guided them to their desired haven.”
We have a choice when we face storms. We can be overcome by fear and take matters into our own hands. Like cows, we can run away as fast as we can, hoping upon hope that we can somehow control the outcome. We can hunker down and ride out the storm dragging out the inevitable or risking long-term consequences. We can whine about how unfair it is. We can exhaust ourselves in pursuit of a worldly answer.
Or we can rise up and charge. Like a buffalo – running into the storm; facing it head on knowing that our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ is steps ahead. That despite the challenge, the sadness, the fear, we are not alone. In fact, amid the chaos, there is a calm that surpasses all understanding quietly whispering, “Listen to me child. Follow my voice. There are lessons to learn. There is strength to be earned. There is hope on the other side.”
But we must walk through – not away, not around. But through the storms of life to draw us closer to the one who holds all. The one who holds the wind. The rain. The pain. The frustration. The sadness. The joy. The hope. The one who holds the Promise. The Promise of a love so deep and intense that it weathered a storm we’ll never have to. The storm of damnation. The storm of an eternity separated from the Father.
That storm was weathered on a cross by Jesus. The pain and agony accepted willingly so that the storms of life will never separate us from the Father who created us. Our greatest protection doesn’t lie in running or hiding.
It lies in following Jesus into the storm.
Wow this really hit me. This is your best one yet!