13/Oct/2008
The ABCs of Aftermath:
God’s Presence in the Storm
By: Jay Hogewood
“We might not have electricity, Pastor, but we’ve still got power.” This is how I was greeted on Sunday morning after the storm, by one of our little old ladies who wore a believable smile.
I often preach that there is no real substitute for faith in God’s power when you feel powerless. Yet I was struggling to believe what I so often preach because, despite her shine, it was dark in our sanctuary and worse, it was muggy – so much so that mosquitoes outnumbered humans.
I admitted silently to myself as I picked up my Bible that Hurricane Gustav had blown a few shingles from my soul. I felt exposed. Maybe my spirit was wind-damaged.
On my zigzagging drive to church that day, I noticed that each downed tree added an extra layer of resentment. With so many other challenges in life, why this, Lord? What good can possibly be blown in from a bad storm?
Maybe I was in just the right spot to experience something that morning at the church. Perhaps I was tired enough to let my guard down, or still enough to notice the movements of something so much greater than I’d ever imagined. But as that first hymn punctured the damp air and lifted worship to God, my heart actually grew and something very good drifted by.
The presence of God comes like that: not so much from gusts and gales, as in a whisper or a breath or a bolder beat of the heart. I’m hardly one to say that lessons like these, lessons that demonstrate God’s clearly powerful presence in the face of life’s storms, are easy to learn. In fact, I have to own up to a few things I’ve learned over the past three weeks.
The journey of faith is an adventure. So little of God’s history of love for creation came without some serious effort, even sweat and tears. God calls all of us to join the adventure. Best of all, God promises to be our guide every step of the way.
Then there’s the buoyancy of our common humanity. Since Gustav, I’ve seen how so many people might’ve hit bottom, but haven’t stayed there. I think the great gift of God is how God keeps us from sinking. By faith, we float, we keep bobbing up and bouncing back. Storms may come, but so does the light of day and a lightness of being in God.
Community deepens too. In the aftermath of this storm, perhaps we’ve all sensed a little more neighborliness. Either misery loves company, or true community is born through shared struggle. God is very much alive and active in this. By God’s love and care, we love and care for each other. Helping each other with blue tarps and chain saws is a modern twist on an ancient command: love the Lord your God and love your neighbor as yourself.
So these are the ABCs of what I’m learning since the storm. There’s a lot left to learn - an entire alphabet of God’s grace awaits. But here’s a start, and thanks be to God for a language we can share.
Peace amid storms,
Jay
God’s Presence in the Storm
By: Jay Hogewood
“We might not have electricity, Pastor, but we’ve still got power.” This is how I was greeted on Sunday morning after the storm, by one of our little old ladies who wore a believable smile.
I often preach that there is no real substitute for faith in God’s power when you feel powerless. Yet I was struggling to believe what I so often preach because, despite her shine, it was dark in our sanctuary and worse, it was muggy – so much so that mosquitoes outnumbered humans.
I admitted silently to myself as I picked up my Bible that Hurricane Gustav had blown a few shingles from my soul. I felt exposed. Maybe my spirit was wind-damaged.
On my zigzagging drive to church that day, I noticed that each downed tree added an extra layer of resentment. With so many other challenges in life, why this, Lord? What good can possibly be blown in from a bad storm?
Maybe I was in just the right spot to experience something that morning at the church. Perhaps I was tired enough to let my guard down, or still enough to notice the movements of something so much greater than I’d ever imagined. But as that first hymn punctured the damp air and lifted worship to God, my heart actually grew and something very good drifted by.
The presence of God comes like that: not so much from gusts and gales, as in a whisper or a breath or a bolder beat of the heart. I’m hardly one to say that lessons like these, lessons that demonstrate God’s clearly powerful presence in the face of life’s storms, are easy to learn. In fact, I have to own up to a few things I’ve learned over the past three weeks.
The journey of faith is an adventure. So little of God’s history of love for creation came without some serious effort, even sweat and tears. God calls all of us to join the adventure. Best of all, God promises to be our guide every step of the way.
Then there’s the buoyancy of our common humanity. Since Gustav, I’ve seen how so many people might’ve hit bottom, but haven’t stayed there. I think the great gift of God is how God keeps us from sinking. By faith, we float, we keep bobbing up and bouncing back. Storms may come, but so does the light of day and a lightness of being in God.
Community deepens too. In the aftermath of this storm, perhaps we’ve all sensed a little more neighborliness. Either misery loves company, or true community is born through shared struggle. God is very much alive and active in this. By God’s love and care, we love and care for each other. Helping each other with blue tarps and chain saws is a modern twist on an ancient command: love the Lord your God and love your neighbor as yourself.
So these are the ABCs of what I’m learning since the storm. There’s a lot left to learn - an entire alphabet of God’s grace awaits. But here’s a start, and thanks be to God for a language we can share.
Peace amid storms,
Jay
