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.

When the Fog Rolls In

(Written Friday, June 23, 2017)

I am sitting here on the porch of a cabin in Colorado, drinking in the scenery (and my coffee, of course) and thinking of how God often uses His creation to teach His children important truths about Him.

Today I am noticing the fog that is creeping down the mountains. It is weaving softly, almost imperceptibly, through hills and valleys, shrouding pine trees and cabins in its soft white blanket. It is only the fog that I can see now - no longer can my eyes rest on the splendor of the mountains...

And yet, even though I can't see the mountains, I am still convinced that they are exactly where they were before the fog descended.

Why?

Because I have seen them when there was no fog.
Because I was scrambling all over them yesterday on a hike with my family.
Because my body can still feel the effects of the climbing I did.

Do I have even the slightest doubt that the mountains are there?

No. Even though at this very moment the fog is thickening and deepening, I have no doubts whatsoever.

What about God? When storms roll in and I can't see my way clearly anymore, do I doubt God's existence? If fog is all I can see, doesn't that mean that He isn't there anymore?

No.

With Moses, the man of God, I can confidently say, "Lord, You have been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were born or You gave birth to the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, You are God" (Psalm 90:1-2, emphasis mine.)

Amen and amen!

God is my dwelling place, even when the fog rolls in and I can't see clearly. He is the rock upon which I stand. I rest beneath the shelter of His wings - even when those wings are shrouded by fog and invisible to my fallible human eye. I have experienced Him in a way that cannot be refuted by logic or argument or even emotion. So even when the events of my life become foggy and confusing, I have the past to dwell on. The blessings from of old (found in both my life and the lives of the Old/New Testament saints) become my reference point.

If I am so sure that the mountains exist beyond the fog, how can I think anything different about God, who created the mountains?! Even before the earth was made by Him, He was God! He is everlasting! He is unchanging - the same yesterday, today, and forever! If He was there before the fog rolled in, we can be sure that He will still be there when the mists of confusion finally rise.

The more I avail myself upon Him and upon His promise of changelessness, the more confident of His continuous presence I will be.

Food for Thought

Throughout the past few months, the Lord has been bringing various thoughts, verses, and songs to my mind that have comforted and convicted me, so I thought I would share some of them with you.

Here are a few samples from my journal:

Where does my security lie? In my love for God, or in His love for me?

---

I wonder if the reason that some people do not believe in the security of salvation is because they do not believe that God created the world. 
If they do not trust in God's ability to create the world and then sustain it, why would they trust in the Spirit's ability to initiate a relationship and sustain that?

---

This is my purpose in life:
"But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God's own possession, so that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light." (1 Peter 2:9)
I also love how that verse says that we are God's possession -- God does not NEED us, but He chose us anyway. I love that about Him! For my part, I want to find my worth + identity in being His chosen possession!

---

"From the end of the earth I call to
   You when my heart is faint;
Lead me to the rock that is higher
   than I...
Let me take refuge in the shelter of
   Your wings."
-Psalm 61:2,4
..............
O safe to the Rock that is higher than I, 
My soul in its conflicts and sorrows would fly;
So sinful, so weary -- Thine, Thine would I be;
Thou blest Rock of Ages, I'm hiding in Thee.

In the calm of the noontide, in sorrow's lone hour,
In times when temptation casts o'er me it's power;
In the tempest of life, on its wide, heaving sea,
Thou blest Rock of Ages, I'm hiding in Thee. 

How oft in the conflict, when pressed by the foe,
I have fled to my Refuge and breathed out my woe;
How often, when trials like sea billows roll,
Have I hidden in Thee, O Thou Rock of my soul.
..............
Be still my soul: the wind and waves still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Contentment + Yearning

As believers living in a sinful world, we must learn two things: proper contentment and proper yearning. These two ideas—contentment and yearning—seem to disagree with each other. How can one be content with his lot in life while he is yearning for something more? Yet this is what we must do!

Our yearning must be for God alone. Jesus longed to be reunited with His Father, for the earth was not His home. What is my desire? Do I yearn to enter the presence of my Savior? Are my thoughts centered around the eternity that I will spend with the Father? One day I will enter His presence and see the glory of the Godhead—but until then, what shall I do? Shall I while away the remaining hours by gazing out my window and wondering why God is taking so long to call me into His presence? Absolutely not! 

That is where contentment comes in. Jesus prayed, “I do not ask You to take them out of the world, but to keep them from the evil one” (John 17:15). No, the world is not my home! But it is where God has placed me for the time being so that I can bring honor and glory to Him. I must be content to live the life of holiness He has called me to until He chooses to take me to my eternal home. So then, I must learn to yearn for God’s presence, but to find contentment in knowing and serving God in this world.

What is it to You?

After Jesus had risen from the grave, He appeared to Peter, John, and five other disciples at the Sea of Galilee, and there He had a very important conversation with Peter. Jesus asked Peter three times if he loved Him, and Peter said yes. Jesus explained that Peter's willingness to love and follow Him would eventually cost him his life, and then He said two words that can make even the most courageous person tremble: "Follow Me." Peter looked over at John, another disciple, and asked Jesus, "What about him?"

Jesus' response was simple: "If I want him [John] to remain until I come, what is that to you? You follow Me!" (John 21:22, emphasis mine).

Those eight words -- "What is that to you? You follow Me" -- have been ringing in my ears and echoing in my heart ever since I read them a week ago. Is there a believer in the world who does not need this message? We are so easily distracted by the people around us. We compare ourselves, we judge others in self-righteousness, we puff ourselves up -- and yet, what is all that to us? 

Those eight words -- "What is that to you? You follow Me" -- sum up the cost of discipleship. Like Jesus, we are to keep our eyes on the joy set before us. We are to love others as He loved. We are to be servants, even if our obedience costs us our lives. It is a difficult task, to be sure, but our Savior, our Redeemer, our Creator has already won the victory over sin and death! We can go forward with the knowledge that He will supply us with the grace we need to complete the tasks He has set out for us. 

Throughout the past week, I have heard the still, small voice speaking John 21:22 to my heart. When my feathers get ruffled at a rude, thoughtless remark--
"Never mind that. What is it to you?"

When I am tempted to stumble at the actions of another believer--
"Never mind that. What is it to you?"

When I experience hurt at the hands of a friend or foe--
"Never mind that. What is it to you?"

When I am afraid or flustered about a future event--
"Never mind that. What is it to you?"

When voices grate on me and actions irritate me--
"Never mind that. What is it to you?" 

When I experience trials or undergo bouts of "spiritual dryness"--
"What is it to you?"

Before all else, I must concern myself with this alone: "YOU follow Me."

Pruning: "Though He Slay Me, Yet I Will Trust Him"

"I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit... Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in Me, he is thrown away as a branch and dries up; and they gather them, and cast them into the fire and they are burned."  -John 15:1-2,4-6

One thing that makes it difficult for nonbelievers to acknowledge their need for a Savior is found within this passage of John: dependence. We are nothing apart from Christ—believers and nonbelievers alike! We cannot bring forth the fruits of righteousness that God desires if we are not rooted and grounded in the Son. Salvation is all about our dependence upon God. There is nothing we can do that will earn us the right to enter into His presence. Our efforts to please God are feeble at best. We are completely dependent on His outstretched love and mercy, and unless we humbly recognize our desperate need, we will be sentenced to an eternity of separation from God. 

However, since I have already accepted the blood of Christ as the atonement for my sin, does Jesus’ lesson have anything to do with me? Absolutely! The Father is the vinedresser who cuts away the dead branches (nonbelievers)—but He is also the vinedresser who prunes the good branches in order to prepare the way for more abundant fruit! Does a plant protest against the pruning of its gardener? No, of course not. Neither should I grouse and grumble when I undergo the pain that pruning brings. 

What happens to the pieces that are pruned from me? They die, because they are no longer connected to the life-giving vine. Am I willing to give myself completely into the hands of God so that He can take and slay the pieces of me—my desires, my hopes, my plans, my purposes—that are hindering my growth in Him? May my answer be a quiet, trusting “Yes, Lord—not my will, but Thine”!

God's Sanctuary

When my heart was embittered and I was pierced within, then I was senseless and ignorant; I was like a beast before You. Nevertheless I am continually with You; You have taken hold of my right hand. With Your counsel You will guide me, and afterward receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but You? And besides You, I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. For, behold, those who are far from You will perish; You have destroyed all those who are unfaithful to You. But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the Lord God my refuge, that I may tell of all Your works. (Psalm 73:21-28)

At the beginning of Psalm 73, the psalmist says about himself, "My feet came close to stumbling, my steps had almost slipped." Why? "For I was envious of the arrogant as I saw the prosperity of the wicked." He had an unrighteous anger against the wicked and, it seems, began to to desire what they had even as he protested against it!

He became bitter and confused -- "senseless and ignorant," "like a beast" before God. That is what bitterness does...it blinds and deceives us until we are as beasts -- ugly, stupid animals who have not the presence of mind to come before God.

But nevertheless! Nevertheless -- in spite of the psalmist's own senselessness and pride -- God had his right hand firmly in His grip. "Nevertheless I am continually with You," he writes.

This brings to my mind a picture of a busy parking lot, in which my father and my three-year-old self are walking. He holds my hand. I see other three-year-olds skipping ahead of their fathers and mothers, unrestrained, and no harm seems to come to them. In anger and embarrassment and pride, I twist and squirm in a weak attempt to break loose from my father's warm grip. He doesn't let go. I cross my arms (as best as I can while holding his hand), scowl, and stomp my foot. Bitterness begins to take root. When my heart become upset, my actions were senseless and ignorant in my father's eyes -- and, years later, in my own when I understood the danger of a child running free in a busy parking lot. But in spite of my unruly resistance, my father did not push me away from him; he brought me closer. He took hold of my hand and made sure that I was continually with him, because he loved me.

"With Your counsel You will guide me, and afterward receive me to glory." 

How necessary is the Lord's counsel to His children! And how undeserved is His goodness and mercy, that He would receive me, His oft-confused and bitter child, and say, "I will keep you safe; you will walk beside Me; I will be your guide -- only receive My counsel! And I will receive you to glory! See, all these things I will do for My child whom I love."

"Whom have I in heaven but You? And besides You, I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart may fail" -- and oh, how often they have already! -- "but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." Hallelujah!

But here a question must be asked. The psalmist was "envious of the arrogant" and "his heart was embittered" until he was "senseless and ignorant". How then did he arrive at "I desire nothing on earth besides You"?

I believe that the answer can be found in verses 16 and 17, and 27 and 28. "When I pondered to understand this [the prosperity of the wicked], it was troublesome in my sight until I came into the sanctuary of God; then I perceived their end... For behold, those who are far from You will perish; You have destroyed all those who are unfaithful to You. But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the Lord God my refuge, that I may tell of all Your works." 

The sanctuary of God -- the nearness of God.

How shall we grow in love if we try to live apart from our God? How shall I learn to "trust in the Lord with all my heart, and lean not on my own understanding" if I am not growing in His wisdom and understanding? How can we separate the clamor of the world from the still small voice of the Holy Spirit when we are not drawing near to Him?

God does His part perfectly -- holding us in His strong hand, remaining continually with us, disciplining us when we stray -- but we too have a part. We must come into His sanctuary; we must embrace His nearness as our good; we must make Him, and Him alone, our refuge.

Why?

Here is at least one reason: "That I may tell of all Your works."

We try to make salvation and our walk with the Lord all about us, but this should not be! May GOD be glorified through our union! May GOD'S great works be praised, and none of mine! Let us come into God's presence -- His sanctuary! -- desiring to lift Him up and make Him our only focus! May we run the race before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, throwing aside the world and opening our arms to Him alone!