Alive

Why do you look for the living among the dead? Luke 24:5.

Wind

I was standing at a gas station today and the wind was blowing wild. I stood there wondering why I couldn't see such a lovely sensation and hoped that it might stay a while. And then I was reminded of the same mystery that betray the earth on Saturday. The same sweet wind, turned black, structuring itself for destruction. And I thought how could such a sweet wind so readily betray it's earth.

All at once I realized this thinking was irrational but thought to myself how beautiful it sounded. That we might belong to something so dear, but then it would turn it's back so swiftly for betrayal. Strange, as I was researching footage from the storm on Saturday, I came across many "artistic" portrayals of tornadoes and storms. Such that would romanticize destruction. I saw one that portrayed a beautiful girl standing in the foreground, arms that appeared to be dancing above her head. There behind her was a tornado strategically doctored in to the picture directly behind her. How could it be, that turning a tornado in to something beautiful is acceptable?

And then I thought that this earth has betray me for all my life. Why should it be so strange that I could finally see it, in the tornado. Beauty, and then destruction. The beautiful things as per the earth, the pride, the money, the power and the lies, the darkness, the lust, the jealousy, oh, the world. She is beautiful, but she is meant to betray you.

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. Romans 12:12

My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of it. Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world. For them I sanctify myself, that they too may be truly sanctified. John 17

An open letter to the home destroyed on Forestville road

The beginnings of these words seem irrelevant when I think of the terror you must have felt for those few minutes on the Saturday you will remember for the rest of your lives. These words, I offer with overflowing eyes, a heavy heart, and the humble nature of a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ.

I don’t suppose it would help to tell you that I complained this morning about the electricity and how its absence had only slightly inconvenienced me. As my aggravation grew with every passing hour that I could not get cold filtered water from the stainless steel refrigerator, the tornados yesterday seemed a lot smaller than the damage they wreaked across my precious home state.

And then came 9:45 Sunday morning. I headed outside with my un-blow-dried hair and my room-temperature water. I got in my car with all its windows still intact, my car that did not have a tree resting on its roof, my car that had not been flipped on its side. Less than one mile later, I started seeing trees down in my neighbor’s yards. It was getting worse. More trees. Then I started seeing windows outside of their frames, then trees through windows. The first devastated home I saw had been shifted off its foundation, and where its garage had once stood, there only lay the frame of a roof, resting on top of a pile of debris and broken wood.

I turned right on to Forestville road. I didn’t know where to look, I couldn’t find comfort in this landfill of the left-over’s of a tornado. I’m sure my mouth was visibly hanging open, my hand held my cheek in disbelief. I started seeing decks in piles, debris wrapped around trees, shards of metal in yards, likely the missing pieces from the destroyed mobile homes down the street. And then I saw your home. I saw what’s left of your home. I saw a lazy boy and a beautiful lamp in the middle of your yard and for some reason that’s what got me the most. I saw multiple people salvaging things from the inside of the place you lay your head and putting them in to a truck for you. These people, I can only imagine, are neighbors, members of the community recognizing a need and humbly offering the only thing they can; their hearts and their hands. I saw them walking the streets close to yours, dozens of them. I saw them talking with distraught home-owners. I saw them picking up trash. I saw them embracing one another. But I didn’t see you. Your home spoke louder than I imagine you could. The screams of a life of memories literally leveled. A lifetime of a place called home, taken down in a moment.

I write to you to offer all the sympathies and condolences my little hands can give. I write to you to tell you that there are scores of people praying for you and the other victims of this storm. I write to you to tell you that nothing I write will change what has happened, but that I hope you find some comfort in the knowledge that God chose to use you in my life and to be sure, in the lives of others: to humble me, to break me, and then to rebuild me. I pray that you will let Him do the same for the home you lost and for the life you begin rebuilding. I don’t know if you are a believer. If you are, I don’t know where you stand in your faith.

This is what I know, I am a 25 year old woman who has not a doubt about the saving grace of God, and the gift He gave us in Jesus Christ to make all things new. Be encouraged if you can. Trust Him if you can. And if you can’t, ask Him to help your unbelief. At the risk of quoting scripture you’ve heard one too many times, this comes from a heart firm in the belief that He works all things together for the good of those who love Him.

Blessings to you in this difficult time,

Your neighbor

A Tornado's Wrath

My nightmare in real life. The dreams I had weeks ago. Here they are in real time. And I am heartbroken.

Tornadoes

I have recurring dreams of tornadoes. And if you know me, you know that I'm quite afraid of tornadoes. I don't have time to go in to it here, or now. But I frantically seek a place to hide. My hiding place, to protect me from the wrath that tornadoes like to bring alongside them.

I don't know what to make of this.

It's not what I'm running from. It's what I'm running to.

Humble.

In order that God may heal us and bind up our wounds (Jeremiah 30:17), we must allow Him entry in to the depths of the souls that He created within us; the souls that we took in our youth during our disobedience, these souls clothed with flesh; now new, but first corrupt by the war that rages within us .

And we fight the war either with weapons we create or with weapons in the name of the Lord (Ephesians 6:10-18), either for one side or the other (Mathew 12:30). I believe we are either on the defensive or on the offensive.

When I could watch from the sidelines no more, I spent much of my life on the defensive, protecting the inmost places of my heart from rejection and pain, from aloneness and from disappointment. You might be quite surprised to discover the amount of effort it takes to convince oneself of how little you care, to ice ones heart until its numb, or to push X away, before X is taken away. These weapons we create not only push healing further from sight, but can be taken and used against us.

When said battle is over, when the smoke clears and the fire dies down, you never like what you find. Because what's left is an unfortunate mound of weapons of mass destruction, maybe some cannons and machine guns, and a soldier, more wounded than he was before, still clinging to what he was protecting. Underneath the mound you'll find his delicate bruised and torn heart. And healing never comes, because it can't move past the weapons piled on top of it.

By humbly offering ourselves to God, we commit that we would endure whatever He would inflict upon us, that we may be healed by His goodness and Love.

We often overlook what it means to humble ourselves. Humble, low or inferior; to reduce the power of. Humiliate: to cause shame to, to hurt the pride of.

When we humble ourselves, when we put aside the weapons we've been using to protect our hearts from humiliation and admit that God is God, it is then, then that we will be healed.

WELL,” SAID POOH, “WHAT I LIKE BEST,” AND THEN HE HAD TO STOP AND THINK. BECAUSE ALTHOUGH EATING HONEY WAS A VERY GOOD THING TO DO, THERE WAS A MOMENT JUST BEFORE YOU BEGAN TO EAT IT WHICH WAS BETTER THAN WHEN YOU WERE, BUT HE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT IT WAS CALLED.