I woke up to the raging roar of thunder. A bright bolt flashed in the dark room. My stomach turned. Anxiously I jumped up, moving swiftly from window to window, closing them all. Back in bed, I pulled the pillow over my head, and waited. My heart pounded faster. The wind blew furiously around the corners of the house. Rain started drumming violently on the roof. My thoughts rummaged: Where would I be safe? Again there was a deafening crack and a bright flash. I cringed and pulled the blanket closer, sheltering myself against the assault. All the time I tussled with the turmoil in my heart. Curling myself tightly into a frail, fearful knot, I hid from the angry onslaught of lightning, wind and rain.
I had always been afraid of thunderstorms. As a little girl I would run to hide behind my mother's back when a storm came. Later I hid in the passage, in the safest corner without any windows. Strangely enough, I was intensely interested in storms. I devoured every article and book I could lay my hands on, fascinated by the power of strong winds and heavy rain. The hurricane, I concluded, was the scariest and deadliest of all storms. Extreme thunderstorms and tornadoes on the outer sides stood in stark contrast to the calm and peace of a windless, cloudless eye in the center of the storm. It was almost beyond comprehension that there could be savage storms swirling around a calm clear core. To me, a hurricane was a true mystery.
It was inevitable that I would soon realize that there were more storms in life than thunderstorms and hurricanes. We all lived our own hurricanes, I recognized. Moving between towns and schools every two years and losing friends, became nothing more than a light drizzle. Living with a depressed parent however, was a real tornado, with extreme winds and heavy downpour. Coupled with a new house, a new school and a new sibling, it became an intense internal whirlwind. I experienced anxiety, confusion, chaos and internal outrage. My inner being was in shambles and I yearned for safety.
As always I pulled the pillow over my head, or tried to find the safe corners without windows, so that I could not see what was happening. I ducked and dived, I cringed and cowered. I tried to shelter myself from the angry onslaught of life. All the time my heart pounded and my thoughts ran in circles, round and round until, after endless months, the storm eventually subsided.
Later I learned about even more brutal storms. I saw the desolation of divorce, the sordidness of sexual abuse, the repulsion of rape. I witnessed the slaughter of physical abuse and the isolation of emotional neglect. I tried to grasp the chaos and embarrassment of alcoholism and the destruction of drug abuse. I sensed havoc and hurt, turbulence and turmoil. It was then that I gathered that a hurricane was an awesome, aggressive beast, demolishing and devouring everything in its path.
The movement of my personal living dragon gained unexpected momentum with the intrusion of a stroke, a heart attack and then, cancer. I experienced the full blow of storm waves, flooding and exhaustive winds, when my father became ill. It was astonishing that a person could feel so vulnerable, so bewildered and forlorn when confronted with the scariest and deadliest of all storms. “Find something of consolation in your Bible, for in mine is none”, I angrily told a caring friend. All defenses came down, and I was frail and fragile, mauled and mutilated by the storm. How I ached for a windshield, a sanctuary. How I craved for a quiet corner. It was said that ships had survived the battering and beating of the harshest hurricanes by sailing in the calm and clear waters of the eye. There were none of it in this brutal storm.
I saw my father minutes after his death. When I saw his silent body I realized that he had found the eye of his hurricane. The presence of the Holy Spirit could be felt in that room. I praised the Lord. Although I cried , I felt peace and joy in my heart. God was there, right in the middle of my storm. He drenched me with love and peace and with His comfort.
That night, in the silence of my room, I thought about Job. He was noticed by God to be honest and true to his word, to be totally devoted to God and to hate evil. However, was there ever a man with more thunderstorms and tornadoes than Job? He lost his possessions, his family and his health. He lost everything. How he battled with his storm, finding no place to hide. How isolated he felt. How he struggled with God. But then Job learned from his suffering. He stopped his struggle and worshipped God. His prayer was accepted and God blessed Job even more than before.
God spoke to Job from the eye of a vicious storm. He still speaks to us from the core of our hurricanes. He resides in the eye with peace and tranquility. He waits for us to stop our struggle and to start worshipping Him. Our lives should be lived in the eye of the storm. To worship God with body, heart, and soul, with all you have, is to let Him lift you gently out of the storm and safely into His lap.
“The God of glory will secure your passage. Then when you pray, God will answer. You'll call out for help and I'll say, 'Here I am' “(Isa 58:9).
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