Storms of Life

Today's blog is by Karen Pickering of Lytroo Retreat

Last night there was a storm.  The kind that lingers.  It started with a few flashes and settled in to a low rumble.  Our four year old granddaughter was alarmed and then happy. She skipped downstairs to get her pillow, singing as she went.   Why so happy?  Because when it thunders we let her sleep on the couch in the loft outside our bedroom door.  The thing that should have caused her panic and fear was now  a source of joy.  The presence of the storm meant that she could sleep near us.  She can see us, we can see her.  Everyone is happy.  Within a few minutes she was asleep.  The storm continued.  She slept on.
It reminded me of someone else who slept through a storm.   We find the story in Mark 4:35-41
 On the evening of that day, he said to them, “Let us cross over to the other side of the lake.”  So they sent the crowd home and took him with them in the little boat in which he had been sitting, accompanied by other small craft.  Then came a violent squall of wind which drove the waves aboard the boat until it was almost swamped.  Jesus was in the stern asleep on the cushion.  They awoke him with the words, “Master, don’t you care that we’re drowning?”  And he woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the waves, “Hush now!  Be still!”  The wind dropped and everything was very still.  “Why are you so frightened?  What has happened to your faith?!”  he asked them.  But sheer awe swept over them and they kept saying to each other, “Who ever can he be? – even the wind and the waves do what he tells them!”   (Phillips)
I’ve heard it explained that Jesus slept because he was so exhausted.  More importantly,  I would argue that he slept because the storm held no fear for Him.  He was sleeping with his Father’s eye on Him.  There was a demonic storm, but God knew where He was.
As difficulties in my own life come up I tend, like the disciples, to fear the storm.  I forget that my Father’s eye is on me. He knows where I am.  May I learn to rest in my Father’s arms in the midst of the trouble.
“When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,
my grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply;
the flame shall not hurt thee; I only design
thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine.
“The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose,
I will not, I will not desert to its foes;
that soul, though all hell shall endeavor to shake,
I’ll never, no, never, no, never forsake.”