IT’S TEN MINUTES AFTER ONE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING as I type this Shepherd’s Staff. I can’t sleep because the wind is blowing and I am not comforted by its sound. Allow me to explain why.
A little over twelve hours ago my neighbor’s house got hit by a rather large section of a Redwood tree. Less than an hour later a huge Fir tree went down across the street, fortunately missing everything but the power lines. But in hitting the line it pulled the power pole in front of my house to a crazy angle and pulled out the line from my house and the power meter off the wall of my neighbor house next door. Call me a worry wart, but sitting in the dark with wind still howling outside has left me just a little frazzled.
“But you’re the pastor,” you say, “you’re supposed to be great at trusting and resting in the Lord.” OK, you found me out. I’m not always good at that trusting and resting part. Feet of clay I guess you’d say, or better yet, house of sticks. So, here I sit laptop on battery power, stoking the fires to warm the house, Bible open, trying to work on Sunday’s message, and oh yes, praying for God to be merciful to my neighborhood and to grant peace to my other nerve-frazzled neighbors.
Once again I am humbled by just how small I really am. How powerless I am against the forces of wind and rain (thankfully it’s not raining). I cannot control its direction or its path, I can only sit and pray and read my Bible and trust, however weakly that trust may be, that God does know, and that God does care. Much like Elijah in 1 Kings, I hear the rock shattering wind, feel its power, and I huddle deep within my cave, longing for the gentle breeze and the still small voice of God calling me out of my hiding place. To know I am not alone.
Speak, O Lord, for your servant is listening.