For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope….when you pray I will listen. If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me.

Jeremiah 29:11-13 NLT

Once upon a time, and many years ago, a family was traveling through a vast desert, and though the desert displays its own kind of beauty, it appeared void of vegetation. Suddenly, the sound of thunder broke the silence, and rain began to fall- not sprinkles, but a very heavy downpour. The family took shelter at a roadside station until the rain stopped. As they departed their shelter, a scene of immeasurable beauty surrounded them. Every cactus that had first appeared nearly depleted of water was suddenly alive with the colors of flowers. The incredible scene of beauty that surrounded the family was nothing short of a miracle.

No, this isn’t a fairytale. I was part of that family on a hot, dusty road in Arizona that day, and it was many years ago, BK, I like to call it, meaning “before Ken.” I mark the events in my life as before or after Ken. We stopped for gas at one of the vastly separated stations along the way, and the owner was convinced we’d brought the rain along with us from Missouri, and he wanted us to stay a while. He hadn’t seen a drop of moisture for nearly a year. We filled the car with gas and visited with the friendly owner inside the station until the weather settled. And as we walked out the door, we were astonished at the transformation of that desert. Where once there had been only sand and the occasional boulder, there was color as far as the eye could see. Insects were buzzing, lizards were slithering through puddles, birds flitted from flower to flower in search of nectar. Anything living in that dry land had to make haste and partake of the bounty before it disappeared again.

We were blessed that day to witness the beauty of color covering a very barren and seemingly empty land for just an instant in time. I carry that memory in my heart. That trip was also quite a lesson in the power and creativity of our God. Only He could paint a canvas of that magnitude.

….this place is not empty. It was overflowing with Him. I breathed deep.

Whispered thanks. Buck Storm, Pray a Word a day

There are dry patches in our lives that resemble desert wastelands…times when nothing seems to be going right. The trials we face often leave us feeling parched and thirsty. The thing I’m learning, albeit at a turtle’s pace, is that even in life’s deserts there is beauty. It’s all around us; in a sunrise at the start of a brand new day filled with possibilities, or the sunset once the day is finished and it’s time to rest. It’s in the things that crawl and the things that fly; it’s in the earth and the sky and, of course, flowers. When we really look at any desert, we will find beauty. After all, God made it, and He doesn’t make mistakes. And best of all, He’s always with us, especially in the deserts.

Sometimes the desert isn’t a trial at all. It’s simply a moment to be still and be loved. Buck Storm, Pray a Word a day

When I experience deserts in my faith—times when it feels my well is dry; it may happen in the midst of a stressful situation, as we have now with our home still partially unusable because of the damage from our leaking water heater…think back nearly three weeks. A financial glitch could cause a faith drought as well, or a job loss. And the passing of a loved one is probably the most trying desert of all. In our desperation, we may shout at God or doubt His Word, or wonder how He could let such a thing happen. Prayer may then be the furthest thing from our minds… but prayer is always the answer to take us from dry patches to the Living Water.

Everyone experiences a dry period in their faith—a time when they feel uninspired

and unheard in prayer. It’s important to realize that everyone has them,

and the way out . . . is to pray anyway. Reach out to God and

ask him to heal the deserts in your spiritual life.

365 Days of Prayer: Simple Reflections to Connect You to God (Guideposts)

With just a word, He can calm us….or the storm.

God Moments too (Referenced from Matt 8:25-26)

Let me begin by saying that the forty-plus years I’ve spent with Ken have been the best of my life. With that said, there was a life before Ken. Four years of it were spent living and working at Twin Rivers Landing, a beautiful family-oriented campground in south-central Missouri. I worked there for another three years after Ken and I were married.

My daughter and I shared a one hundred twenty-five-year-old log cabin built in the dogtrot style, two wings on either side of a breezeway. It had been converted to a modern two-bedroom, two-bath home with all the amenities. The dogtrot portion was enclosed to become the front entry and a bath. It was very cozy and beautiful, and the wood stove we added was an extra bonus on chilly nights.

When I wasn’t working, we spent our days in the sparkling clear Black River. We swam, canoed, and tubed. When we weren’t in the water, we often enjoyed a lazy horseback ride along the stream and up into the hills around the property. It was the perfect place for us to be at that time in our lives. We showed family movies on the lawn complete with popcorn and snow cones. We had a game barn filled with lots of fun activities to entertain the kids. We offered horse-drawn hayrides two evenings a week and special events that appealed to all ages. Jeni made friends among our camping guests, and I enjoyed a job filled with variety and lots of interesting challenges.

Our little corner of paradise sat just below the confluence of the three forks of the Black River. That meant we always had water, though it could get pretty low during summer droughts. In late spring and early summer, it ran much higher, and sometimes we got too much rain. Floods were not uncommon, and we were forced to evacuate the campground on several occasions. Those who live and work in the area must be able to read the river. It’s not a question of if it will flood but when, and the severity of the flooding will depend on which portions of the watershed are affected. Heavy rain on one fork is manageable; when a second fork becomes involved, the outlook deteriorates, and when all three forks are running high, it’s time to buckle up and get ready for a rough ride.

Ken was assigned to Johnson’s Shut-Ins State Park during our time at Twin Rivers Landing, and that area was subject to flooding from the east fork of the same Black River, so both of us learned a lot about recovery and restoration. After our marriage, Jeni and I moved there and continued our life on the Black River. And do you know, even with the flooding issues, I wouldn’t trade those years for anything. God outdid himself when he created that portion of south-central Missouri. To this day we still consider it the most beautiful place in our very diverse and lovely state.

Just two weeks ago, dramatic flooding struck our former homes. All three forks rose rapidly under heavy thunderstorms. Record water levels delivered considerable damage to the state park, and some portions are still closed for repair or reconstruction. My old campground didn’t fare as well. That campground and several others suffered total loss and devastation. The good news is that everyone was rescued by National Guard helicopters or water rescue teams from many areas who mobilized quickly to reach the scene. It was truly a miracle, aided by the hard work of rescuers, that no one perished in that area.

One of the St Louis TV stations provided excellent coverage online. It was difficult watching the footage of a place I loved so much being obliterated and knowing how the livelihood of those businesses and their staff are now affected. Tourism is about the only business in the area, and many people will be without income. I have watched interviews with some of the people and despite the devastation, they are strong and resilient. I don’t know if or when there will be campgrounds along that river again, but I do know that God will heal his land. The river and all its ecosystems will flourish again. His creation will be beautiful once more.

We all have our storms…some small and others large. Life changes in a moment. But God is always there in the middle of the chaos.

God gets into things…look and you’ll find what everyone from Moses to Martha discovered. God in the middle of our storms.

Max Lucado, Everyday Blessings

Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails. Proverbs 19:21

This has been one of those weeks that would test the patience of a saint. Ken said last weekend that we had a busy one coming up, but he didn’t know the half of it. Monday began with typical outdoor chores. I tended flowers, and he mowed grass. That was the last typical morning we enjoyed. After mowing, he decided it was time to trim our way-out-of-control burning bush. We’d been discussing it for a few weeks, and now it was going to happen. This was a giant of a bush, one that offered lots of privacy to our very exposed back yard, and the bright red of fall made it an outstanding specimen.

Ken first attacked it with electric hedge trimmers, and I grabbed the giant loppers. Soon he took over the loppers, and I began piling the trimmed branches out of our way. After a grueling afternoon of work, we reduced the tree from about twelve feet high and an equal distance in width to less than half its original size. It was too late to take the clippings to the yard waste dumpster, so we got up Tuesday morning and took two pickup loads to dispose of them. We finished our very warm day of work, showered, and decided to go to an estate sale on Wednesday, followed by grocery shopping.

It was an enjoyable day until we returned home. After everything was put away, I settled in to read a while, and Ken came in asking if I’d noticed the bump in the floor at the foot of the refrigerator. I had not seen that before, but we assumed there had been water there, judging by the appearance of the laminate. We checked all around and found no moisture that could be attributed to the refrigerator, but we did call for service. I then went back to reading, and Ken went about his online tool research.

Soon, I headed through the kitchen to the laundry, and as I crossed the space between the two rooms, I felt squishing beneath my feet. There was water under our flooring. We started checking other water sources, and Ken found the culprit. Our water heater had apparently overheated, and the check valve released the very hot water onto the floor. As water will do, it found the path of least resistance…a mini disaster in the making.

Ken shut off the water to the tank and began mopping. Within a few minutes, the squishing ceased, but the damage was done. A new water heater was installed the next morning at the plumber’s recommendation. The old heater had passed the fifteen-year mark, so it seemed best. But then, a restoration specialist came and tested our floors and walls for moisture and discovered lots of it; in a large portion of the kitchen, in the laundry room, and a small part of the living room, which happened to be under the fireplace, and let’s not forget the utility closet where the nasty culprit had sat. The fix…well, as of Sunday evening, our kitchen is completely torn out along with the bottom two feet of drywall. The laundry is torn apart, the fireplace removed from the living room, and all the flooring removed. But none of the repairs can begin until it’s dry and protected from future mold. So, we are “enjoying” the hum of two industrial dehumidifiers and nine high-velocity fans in the affected rooms. There are six more fans under the house. Some of our appliances are in the garage along with boxes of cabinet contents and the disassembled cabinets. Other appliances are scrunched to one side of the living room along with the living room furniture.

….it’s as though He’s reminding me to rest in His complete reliability and competence to execute a good plan on my behalf—perhaps one that will surprise, delight, challenge, and grow me up in Him. (Pray A Word A Day)

We’ve created something of a sanctuary in our primary bedroom. With comfy furniture and the door closed, we can tolerate the noise of the motors. The small bathroom sink is doubling as a kitchen sink. They’re telling us it will take at least two weeks to get most of it back to normal. Meanwhile, we’re having a hot meal out each day and making do with cold food the rest of the time. It tastes good on these hot days.

I’m trying very hard to stay positive, but it’s a battle, if not impossible. I’ve been trying to set aside some time by myself, upon rising in the morning and when falling asleep surrounded by loud noise each evening, to think of all the things I’m grateful for. Some of them are very small and some quite large. The greatest is the presence of Jesus on one side of me and Ken on the other. I very much need both my guys to meet this challenge. As we navigate between the before and after of this most recent journey, I’ll trust them both to be at my side. (Even when I get crabby.)

For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13

And I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you… Ezekiel 36:26a

As a young girl, the late elementary study of the life cycle of caterpillars to butterflies stirred my imagination. I was amazed that such a phenomenon could exist, and I wanted to observe it with my own eyes.

I went into my yard searching for subjects to attempt an experiment. To my delight, I found a large number of caterpillars on a pair of tall poplar trees in our backyard. I quickly located a large jar, punched numerous holes in its lid, broke several twigs, complete with leaves, and placed them in my jar. I then added several of the caterpillars and watched as they devoured leaves. It would clearly be a big job to keep those little critters supplied with food if they were to survive and complete my goal of raising them to be butterflies.

I added leaves whenever the supply became low, kept a container of water in the jar, and watched as the small caterpillars became larger and changed color. I lost a couple along the way, but my persistence paid off. When I checked on them one morning, a couple of them had formed perfect chrysalises.

Chrysalis: a protected state of growth, development, or transitional phase where someone or something is preparing to undergo a profound, beautiful change. merriam-webster.com

I released the others and, no longer needing to perform my regular feeding duties, my task became one of patiently waiting. One day, I noticed a big change in the appearance of one chrysalis. Traces of the pattern of the adult butterfly became obvious through the thinning shell, and shortly after that, right before my eyes and to my great delight, the beautiful insect emerged. It sat quietly for a while and then spread its wings. That was my cue to open the jar and let it go. The reward of all my efforts was a beautiful butterfly drinking in the nectar from my mom’s petunias.

That experiment, of course, happened long ago, and I have no idea which variety of butterfly I raised in my jar, but I can remember the thrill of watching the adult butterfly emerge and then rise into the air to complete its purpose: to mate and ensure the continuation of the species.

And the fascination with the process of metamorphosis still intrigues me today. How in this world can a long, slender caterpillar cover itself in a magical coating, liquify and rearrange its entire molecular structure, and emerge as a delicately winged butterfly? First, it’s crawling along leaves, eating everything in its wake, and then it’s flitting from flower to flower, drawing nectar for its nourishment. Not only does it seem impossible, but I ask myself, “Why?” What is the reason that some of God’s creatures completely transform during their life cycles?

Perhaps the answer is that we humans need a science lesson to demonstrate God’s ability to change any living thing into something different. After all, he created the caterpillar—of course, He can transform it into anything He wants it to be. And He can do the same with us. When we finally realize that He gave us life and wants to share all of that life with us, a metamorphosis begins in us. No, of course, we don’t liquify or rearrange our molecular structure. Our metamorphosis is not one of the body, but one of the heart and soul.

There, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here. II Corinthians 5:17

We begin with a desire to devour God’s Word; we are nourished by His daily bread and living water. We grow in relationship with Him and become a new person. Do we always live up to His expectations? Certainly not! But once we know Him, we understand that He’ll always be there. If He can make that funny-looking caterpillar become a lovely butterfly, He can surely turn my mess into a life of extraordinary beauty. Create in me, Lord, a metamorphosis that makes me look more like you!

Then he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Matthew 4:19 NLT

Way back in 1968, the stone age to many of you, Ken received his military discharge following eight years of service; one in Iceland, three in Germany, and four all across the US. After growing up with New England winters and experiencing a lot of cold weather at his various military assignments, he was convinced he wanted to settle in a warmer climate. And since some of his siblings had already migrated to Florida, he decided that would be the ideal spot for him. He landed in Tampa for a while, but scouting and his varied travels had convinced him that he was no longer a city boy, so he made the move slightly north to Brooksville, which was a lot smaller at that time than it is today. In fact, most of Florida still had a quieter, easier way of living. Walt Disney had not yet brought the “mouse” to central Florida that transformed the area into the tourist mecca that we all recognize. Produce stands still dotted the roadsides, selling their wares at ridiculously low prices. And housing was really affordable.

One more thing that Ken really loved about his chosen home was that most days, after work, he could stop by the house, pick up his fishing gear, and head to the beach or pier. He never knew what he might catch, and it didn’t matter. After a lifetime of eating things that swam, he never allows fish, shellfish, or any other swimming creature to touch his plate. He fishes for the pure joy of the catch or even the discovery of something unexpected at the end of his line. He loves the challenge of landing a particularly crafty fish, but he is just as happy reeling in one little sunfish after another. And those fish can trust him to let them live to swim another day, unless a new acquaintance on the beach would like to take them home for supper.

The key to his enjoyment of Florida fishing in those bachelor days was the ease with which it occurred. All his gear could be left out, right where he could get to it easily, no one nagging him to put it out of sight, and he could be quickly on his way.

Fast forward to 1983 when I met him, and fishing wasn’t even on his radar. As a single dad with two kids in tow and a scout troop clamoring for his attention, he barely had time to work… just kidding. He did a great job of managing Missouri’s beautiful state parks. But even when we moved to Montauk, a very busy trout fishing park, he just didn’t find the challenge tempting. (He did, however, enjoy casting his fly rod there once he had retired.) Even when we moved on to Bennett Spring, Ken did not engage in fishing. By that time, he was concerned that the public might see his spending time on the riverbank as inappropriate for the park superintendent.

I do, however, recall a few times during our marriage when he really enjoyed fishing. One was a visit to the quiet side of the Smoky Mountains where he caught and released wild, native trout. He spent many hours on that river, and it offered him deep relaxation as he was making a job transition. The other occurred while he managed Dogwood Canyon Nature Park. A family named Rockefeller came to do some serious trout fishing. The guides were all occupied with adult fisherpeople, but there was a boy around eight years old who wanted to fish as well. No one had time for him, nor experience working with kids, so Ken took him. And a boy who was rambunctious and a bit unruly according to his adult people became enchanted with fishing because someone took the time to be with him and offer instructions. He caught his first fish, and he was, shall we say… “hooked?”

The call clearly remains the same…to be fishers of men.

That’s kind of how it is with people. When we take some time and show a little interest in them, we show them how to be like Jesus. We catch a lot more people with the gifts of our time, our kindness, and our love, one human for another, than we would with speeches about how they should live their lives. Just set a Jesus-like example.

Are you willing to let Jesus show you the intricacies of soul fishing? The catch is as slippery as a [Rainbow Trout], but worthy of the spiritual brawn you will cultivate in intimate moments with the Lord.

So, what do you think? Should we polish our Jesus skills and go do a little fishing?

(Quotes, other than scripture, are from God Moments Too, with some paraphrasing.)

The Word brought life to everything that was created, and his life brought light to everyone. John 1:4

It was a dark and stormy night, the moon obscured by heavy cloud cover as wave after wave of an angry ocean swept over the deck. Sailors were exhausted by the very intensity of the storm, many on their first voyage. The captain, wisened by long experience, knew the danger they faced, but kept his calm for the sake of his crew. He’d sailed here before, knew there was a light close by, but the storm was so fierce that light couldn’t penetrate. They must not allow the ship to drift too close to the rocky shore and yet not be carried out to sea either. The captain walked a very fine line.

And suddenly… was that a faint light in the distance? The sea began to calm, the waves subsided, and, yes, there was the beacon from the lighthouse. They were safe for now. Cheers erupted from the deck, the captain wiped the sweat from his brow, and joined the jubilation as one more ship was saved by the diligence of the light keeper who kept the fire going all night long.

Those early lighthouses that dotted our newly settled coastline were literally a lifeline for ships attempting to navigate often rocky coastal waters or avoid going aground in sand. The first keepers carried coal to an open brazier at the top of the tower. It is estimated they burned about a ton of coal a night, but on a stormy night, that number could rise to three tons, and was accomplished by perhaps three light keepers. It was the most labor-intensive occupation of the seventeen hundreds.

By the early nineteenth century, coal was being phased out and replaced first by whale oil, later kerosene, and a highly effective Fresnel lens. This compact lens is designed with a series of concentric, stair-stepped grooves that dramatically reduce the amount of material and weight of a conventional lens while maintaining the ability to bend and focus light. The lens is illuminated by a single, much smaller light, and the advent of electricity eliminated the need for a light keeper to transport fuel to the top.

Most of the lighthouses of the past have been retired in favor of new technology that allows sailors to read the ocean in great clarity. But many states and communities have continued to maintain their “lights” as a beautiful part of our history. Some can only be spied from a distance, while others are open for tours. In our travels, I never failed to talk Ken into stopping to check out a nearby lighthouse. The simplicity of their origins fascinates my imagination, and the technology of their development provides a glimpse into the intricacies of navigation.

Our daughter’s family is vacationing in the Great Lakes area now. They have visited lighthouses along their way and posted photos so that we can track their adventures. At the same time, we are experiencing lots of stormy weather during this season, and that started me thinking of Jesus as our lighthouse. When we’re enduring storms in this life—and we all do—he quietly watches over us, and when we become weary from the burden of our storm, he turns the light on for us and illuminates the way forward. He is our anchor in the storm and the solid rock on which we can rebuild. In the darkest of times, Jesus can turn on the lights and provide the clarity we need to withstand whatever troubles we have.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it. John 1:5

If you have an opportunity to visit a lighthouse and learn its history, I encourage you to take the time. It’s well worth it. And while you’re there, think about the times in your life when Jesus has turned on the “Light” for you. We don’t know if our sea captain of old was a follower, but I like to imagine that on that very stormy night, he may have had a brilliant encounter with the Savior of the universe.

I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t have to walk in darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life. John 8:1

The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.

John 1:14 (MSG)

The atmosphere is electric! The crowd, giddy with anticipation, suddenly erupts in cheers and applause, then quiets to hear the opening song. It’s one of the most sought-after concerts of the year, featuring a musical artist of enormous popularity. Thousands of fans sway to the music and sing along. The evening is beautiful, and many nice memories are made.

There is a phenomenon among fans of musicians, actors, athletes, and other celebrities that continually amazes me. These loyal fans are convinced they know the personality they admire. They read everything they can possibly find about them, and social media is full of stories, good and bad, about each one. Because their minds are filled with words and images about their favorites, they begin to see them as friends—and a one-sided relationship begins to form. But the reality is that celebrities are just people, like you and me. And while they enjoy the glamour and attention, the only thing they really share with us is the opportunity to witness their gifts and talents from a distance. They are not available to share our personal joys and sorrows—they are living their own lives, far removed from ours.

On the other hand:

Jesus was radically available to everyone. Bob Goff, Catching Whimsy

How is one radically available? Well, just take a closer look at Jesus’ life. He could have turned away from the woman at the well because of her reputation or even just because she was a woman. But he didn’t! He could have chosen to rest instead of healing the sicknesses brought before him by the crowds. But he didn’t! He could have given up on Peter after all his misdeeds. But he didn’t! He didn’t have to feed the multitude that came to hear him teach. But he did! He didn’t have to come when his friends sent word that their brother was dying. But he did! He didn’t have to turn and call out to the woman who touched the hem of his robe. But he did! He didn’t even have to respond to the request of the thief on the cross beside him. But he did! Wherever he was, Jesus always made himself part of the “neighborhood,” reaching out to those who needed him.

I think you’re likely getting the picture. Being radically available means being the kind of person to whom others are drawn. I’m not talking about the celebs in our lives, though I certainly do enjoy music and entertainment as well as the next person. In this instance, I mean being a person who smiles and shares a moment with someone who looks lonely. Or welcomes a knock on the door at mealtime—maybe even adding a plate to the table when not sure whether or not there’s enough to go around. Hungry people are sometimes in search of a different kind of food, one that involves our time and attention. It may mean sacrificing something we wanted to do for something that needs doing.

I know there are many times when I’m not even remotely available, much less radically so. I need to change that perception of myself and begin to think more like Jesus. I’d like to feel that our neighborhood (literally and figuratively) is filled with Jesus’ goodness (and radical availability) partly because I live here.

We all live off his generous abundance, gift after gift after gift. We got the basics from Moses, and then this exuberant giving and receiving, this endless knowing and understanding—all this came through Jesus, the Messiah. John 1:16-17 (MSG)

I’ve had some favorite performers over the years, been to a few amazing concerts, and gotten caught up in the excitement of it all. I’ve enjoyed first-run blockbuster movies featuring excellent actors and cheered loudly for a few athletes who’ve caught my attention, even aligned myself with some seemingly well-meaning politicians. But they are typically here today and gone tomorrow. Jesus, however, has always been radically available, always been a part of my “neighborhood.” He is my one true bright and shining star. He’ll always be right here for me—and for you.

Suddenly, the storm stopped, and all was calm.

Then he asked them, “Where is your faith?” Luke 8:22b-25a (NLT)

The first flash of lightning lit up my bedroom like daytime, and it was quickly followed by a crash of thunder that began as a crack loud enough to wake the dead and continued to roll loudly through the surrounding hills for what seemed like forever. I checked the radar, and it was so full of lightning symbols I could barely see the radar imprint over our area. That was at 4:48 AM. It is now 9:30 on Monday morning, and there is still thunder rumbling all around, not as loud as those earlier displays, but certainly not giving up its hold on Clever, MO.

Last week’s message encouraged us to be still and listen for God to speak. Today, stillness wasn’t necessary. His voice spoke loudly in the dark of night.

But let me backtrack a bit. It wasn’t exactly a banner weekend for us. It seemed all our best-laid plans just disappeared into thin air. I won’t bore you with details; suffice it to say, not much went as we had wanted. On top of that, or maybe partly because of it, my writing muse seemed to be AWOL. I had hoped that something or someone at church would provide a spark that could turn into a useful message, but that was not to be.

As the day wore on, bad news kept tumbling into my lap. I heard a notification on Ken’s iPad that, considering the darkening sky, could have been a weather warning. He was working in the garage, so I checked it out, only to learn that Iran had broken its peace promise and lobbed missiles at Israel again. A little later, Ken read me a horrible story of how one government was forcing small children into slave labor in order to pay off debts incurred by their parents through the unethical practices of that same government. And then, Ken announced that a tornado warning had been issued for Springfield. What was that about? All our forecasters had agreed that the rains predicted for the weekend didn’t carry a severe threat, and yet the heart of Springfield was under a violent siege. We turned on the TV around seven thirty and found our trusty weather specialists in the midst of continuous coverage, which lasted until ten o’clock. A couple of tornadoes were confirmed, but they were brief. Thankfully, no lives were lost, and property damage was not widespread.

Here’s the thing….before falling asleep last night, I asked God to show me clearly what this week’s message should be, and He gave me a very noisy and conclusive response. Whatever worries I have are minor in the grand scheme of things because He is still in control. A God who can stir up the heavens as He has done can surely solve the problems of humankind. He will be with little children who are oppressed and hurting. He will ride out all our storms right beside us because He loves us and wants to protect us. And if some government leader decides it might be a good idea to press that button that unleashes nuclear war on our world, He gives us an out….it’s called heaven. What more could we want?

For now, the storms of life will keep coming, and after checking the forecast, it looks like we may have a bumpy week ahead. Just remember, God is still in control, and nothing or no one can defeat Him. Trust Him to be right by your side.

Then I heard what sounded like a great multitude, like the roar of rushing waters and like loud peals of thunder, shouting, “Hallelujah! For the Lord God Almighty reigns. Revelation 19:6 NIV

In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly. Psalm 5:3 NIV

Being “here” or in the here and now is often a challenge…we live in a nutty world, running at the speed of light for 25 hours a day. OK, I exaggerate a bit, but really, we seldom take the time to truly smell the roses or notice the little blessings we encounter every day.

I have to admit I like being busy. Sitting quietly is not my strength. But sometimes God gives us a time out in which to rest…you know, a little back strain to limit our activity. An illness or injury makes us slow down and enjoy the warmth and comfort of home while someone else does the housework. A storm that leaves inches of snow keeps us homebound until it’s plowed. A power outage left us only candles and battery-operated lights. And, of course, the loss of someone we love.

Recent losses in our church have left us with a big hole in our hearts. Familiar voices we won’t hear again, eyes sparkling with a little bit of mischief but also lots of love, stories from times past, and plans for the future. It hurts when our plans are changed forever, yet during the grieving, we find quiet times in which to seek the comfort of the Holy Spirit. The ability to be still is truly a blessing. I’m learning, albeit slowly and sometimes painfully, that stillness is not a punishment. It’s an opportunity to connect or reconnect with Jesus, to rest completely under the sheltering wings of the Almighty.

In the midst of your daily storms…make it a point to be still and set your sights on Him.

Max Lucado, God Is With You Everyday

Some people can hear God speak. I can’t say I’ve ever heard a voice that I believed to be God enunciating words in a conversational manner. With me, it’s more like a gentle breeze ruffling my hair when there has been no breeze at all. It catches my attention and I wonder, “Is that you, Lord? What are you trying to tell me?“ Or I may have a very vivid dream, tossing and turning until it wakes me. And that dream may offer me a point of reference from which to write. And I just say, “OK, Lord. Message received.” Sometimes, those messages hit me like the proverbial two by four, while at other times, he really makes me search for them. But I do believe that it’s in the stillness, the middle of the night or when I’m sitting alone on the deck, that I’m most likely to experience a disturbance in the routine of daily living that feels like God is trying to communicate.

We’ve all had moments and situations when we’re about to do something that we know would be against God’s will for us, and something tells us to stop. Most people call it a conscience. I see it as a message from The Holy Spirit reminding us of whose we are.

Be still, and know that I am God! Psalm 46:10

However you prefer to communicate, don’t neglect to do it. It’s those conversations in the stillness of your night, or day, that keep you close to Jesus. And when the inevitable storms of life, whether physical or emotional, keep you awake, use that stillness, that absence of activity, as a perfect opportunity to talk with him. If you seek Him, He will hear you, and in His good timing, he will answer.

Speak to me now, Lord, and make your voice crystal clear. May it never

be said of my life that I almost listened & almost followed.

I will follow. Max Lucado (On Calvary’s Hill)