I have had an on and off phobia of storms (and, specifically, tornadoes) for the last eight years - ever since I was camping through a terrible storm when I was 14. For most of my high school years I would turn into an inconsolable puddle of fright hiding in the basement whenever I read the words "severe thunderstorm watch/warning" on my computer monitor. Then some things happened that made me face my fears - and trust in God. My family moved to a mobile home that had no basement. I could no longer trust in physical structures for my safety. Then I began working at a Bible camp for entire summers at a time. When you have eight or so little girls to look after in a tent/shed hybrid of a cabin, debilitating fear is not an option. Strong reliance upon God became the necessity. The fear I felt has never really abated in strength - it's just been countered by faith in God's sovereignty.
Now, as a new (and expectant) mother, I feel these fears rising to their old levels. I fear for my son. I fear for the squiggly (and pointy, might I add) baby inside my womb. I fear what the fear coursing through my body does to the tiny little human I'm housing. And I fear the future with the knowledge that, once again, we'll be living in a mobile home with no basement. Of course, statements such as "the most tornado-related deaths happen in mobile homes" don't do anything to help the situation.
That's why yesterday was so tough. There were many severe thunderstorm warnings to be had around these parts, and I also had the task of driving to a nearby city when I knew bigger-than-golfball-sized-hail had already materialized along the road. Thankfully the storm had passed over by the time I got going, and there was really no reason to fear. Even so, I felt like my ability to cope with my fear had already been spent for the day, thank you.
And then another warning came. I didn't need the computer to tell me that this time - I could see black clouds approaching (which, at camp, means that the storm is practically upon us) and could feel the sudden spike in temperature and humidity. Uh oh. The fear began rising before I could even assess the situation.
Nothing much happened last night, really. The ominous clouds set a quiet and eerie tone over the whole countryside, as if every living thing was holding it's breath. Then the light show started. Every second brought at least one or two flashes of lightning that snaked across the heavens like an intricate network of veins. It was so bright, in fact, that I struggled to keep my eyes in focus. There was no reprieve. Among all of this, not a rumble of thunder could be heard. It was a silent display of power. The clouds, with bellies full of rain (the lightning often lit them up from behind), resolutely refused to unleash the downpour that the land was waiting for. Still, it seemed as though fear was gripping everything else as it was gripping me. I was prepared to take cover in our crawl space at a moment's notice, should the need arise. It never did.
During all of this I found myself constantly giving over my anxieties to Christ. I held on to Philippians 4:6-7, which states "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus". I grasped this command and promise in both hands, simultaneously pouring out all my fears to the Lord while feeling His calming presence surround me. When I would stop voicing my concerns to Him, I would quickly feel the fear jump back to it's usurped place in my heart. At one point I desperately questioned God as to why He couldn't just take away the fear for good, but then I realized ridding me completely of fear would leave no need for faith. And so I watched the skies, in awe of God's mighty power over creation and trusting mightily in His sovereignty over all things.
Oh, friends, we have a mighty God who gives good gifts to His children, but we so often refuse to bow our knees before His throne of grace to ask for what we need. Sometimes we do go to Him, but we think one moment of petition should be enough to last for a given amount of time. God's grace isn't like that - it's not poured out in little bits and then used up when a task is done. I believe we need to be in constant prayer for it and depend upon Him to supply every single drop to sustain us. God is not a placebo drug. He is the absolute IV of life.
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