Choosing the Storm

{Written earlier this summer}

Right now, even as I type, a storm is raging around me. The wind is howling, the rain is pelting against the windows, and branches are flying through the air. The house shudders. Thunder rumbles. The slim, three-year-old oak tree that is planted by our circle drive thrashes its leafy head in the wind. The field next to us looks white as rain whirls across it like snow. Far, far away, the lights on a cell tower blink feebly through the storm. The sound of the rain is a constant roar in my ears.

If I had no shelter against this terrifying rage, I would be scared to death.

If I didn’t know the great Commander of the storm, I would be trembling just like the baby oak tree outside.

“Are the guys terrified-ed?” my little brother asks. “The guys on the boat? Are they terrified-ed?” Mom has just been telling him the story of the disciples on the Sea of Galilee, and he wonders if this storm was anything like the storm the disciples experienced while sailing on a boat with Jesus.

Suddenly I realize that the fear that welled up in the disciples on that dark, stormy night was very understandable—except that they, too, knew the great Commander of the storm. They, too, had a shelter. The Man who lay sleeping in the boat—He was their shelter. He was the Commander of the storm. They cried out to Him and He came to their aid. First He rebuked them—“Why are you fearful, O you of little faith?”—and then He rebuked the storm. The storm obeyed Him and the disciples responded in absolute awe.

Storms aren’t all bad, are they? They give us the chance to see God’s power. They give us a chance to stand in awe of Him. They rock our worlds until we have nowhere to go except straight into the arms of God Himself.

Humbled, shaken, bowed down, wind-tossed, helpless—in this world, we will be all of those things. And in a world where God is sovereign—in a world where God commands the storm—those are all good things to be. All who have chosen to take up their cross will experience suffering and anguish. They will go through storms and trials that are specifically and graciously designated by God as a means to bring glory to Him.

Think of the verses in Matthew 8 that come directly before the account of the terrifying storm at sea. Jesus warns a wanna-be disciple that even though “foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests…the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head” (Matthew 8:20). Foxes and birds are earthly creatures, so of course they have holes and nests on this earth for their resting places. But the earth is not Jesus’ dwelling place—and the same is true for all of His followers. The earth is not my dwelling place. And if you are a Jesus-follower, then the earth is not your dwelling place either. It is a temporary abiding place where He sanctifies us through storms and trials so that one day we will be like Him.

Now think again of the wanna-be disciple in Matthew 8. Where would his next steps have taken him if he would have followed Jesus?

A storm.
An uncomfortable boat.
The foamy, violent Sea of Galilee.

Foxes have holes. Birds have nests. And the Son of Man laid His head on a storm-tossed boat.

What a lesson for those of us who want to follow Jesus! Are you willing to lay your head down in the midst of the storm and rest beside your Savior until He chooses to rebuke the waves? Are you willing to embark on a journey that is sure to lead you into the midst of the raging seas? Are you willing to suffer? Am I?

Let me tell you that it is in the midst of that crazy, terrifying boat ride that you will see Jesus as He is: powerful, sovereign, faithful, perfect, and beautiful. A provider and a commander. A healer and a leader. A friend.

It costs much to become a follower of Jesus.

But when Jesus Himself is our reward, how could we choose any other way?

So I choose the cross. I choose the storm. I choose Jesus.