My sweet mama missed her calling. She has worked a series of jobs throughout her life, but her passion has always been the weather. From my earliest memories, I can recall seeing her with an eye to the sky. The happiest day of her life was the day that the Weather Channel debuted on TV.
My mother is the only person I know who would be delighted to watch reruns of weather forecasts, even on a sunny day. She was also a stickler for preparation. Should a cloud arise in Chicago, Mama had her umbrella handy, just in case the storm veered south.
Just imagine what manner of preparations took place when the North Florida skyline darkened under a tornado watch. Within minutes of the watch being given, my mama would have packed an emergency bag complete with enough supplies to survive a zombie apocalypse. Every motel within a hundred-mile radius would receive a call, as she frantically sought to book a room. Mama don’t play when a storm is brewing.
As for me, I took a more relaxed approach. I tended to wait until an F-5 tornado was within the city limits, and I had a clear view of the pearly gates before I started making an exit strategy. This, of course, would cause my mother no small amount of angst. More than once, this dear lady would have my truck packed before I even thought about leaving. She then proceeded to remind me every fifteen minutes that “weather was coming.”
What I hated most about taking cover and retreating to motels was the interruption from my coffee and recliner schedule. Even the sturdiest of motels have horrible coffee and their beds are no match for my recliner.
However, for all of my complaining about my mother’s weather phobias, I will never forget a summer afternoon when my mother was not at home. Because of her absence and lack of nagging, I was oblivious to the weather that was sneaking up on me. The usual drenching heat of August suddenly gave way to a cool breeze and dark skies that sent me indoors.
Within minutes, I was watching a torrential downpour through the living room window. Lightning was putting on an impressive display, and the hail was drumming a frightening beat on the roof. All of that paled to what came next. Trees started toppling in the backyard, with only a brief intermission before the trees in the front yard followed suit.
When it was all over, I checked myself for a pulse and determined that I was still in the land of the living. My landscape was quite different, with trees lying prostrate in the places where they once stood.
The storms of life are very similar to this experience. Our lives can often feel much like those trees that were standing helplessly in destruction’s path, uprooted and strewn about as if they had no purpose. Satan would have you believe that is the case with each of his evil plans for you; that you are without hope or meaningful purpose.
We need to be careful to never agree with his strategies, even when we feel responsible for the storms that we may have helped to create. The Apostle Peter was certainly responsible for disowning the Lord before his crucifixion. Yet, Jesus simply reminded him of his purpose, saying, “... but I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail; and you, when once you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.” (Luke 22:32)
Incredibly, Jesus was preparing Peter to succeed even before he failed. This didn’t keep Peter from feeling like a complete loss for a while, but his faith held, despite the storm that was brewing within him. Also, there’s a good chance that the depth of humiliation he went through probably served to strengthen his compassion for others and improve his ability to serve them.
When your next storm approaches, don’t allow it to make you cringe in fear or seek refuge in places God never intended. Hang on through the surge of emotions or pain you may endure. Know that Jesus has interceded to the Father on your behalf, and that He was prepared for your storm before it got here. He may use what seems like destruction to clear your path for a better future.