Weathering The Storm

Ken Weliever
09/09/12 - Bulletin

Even though we are 1248 miles away, we were watching. Waiting. Wondering. Would tropical storm Isaac become a hurricane? Would it hit Tampa? What would happen if Tampa took a direct hit? How severe would it be? And why did we care from so far away?

Because we have family there. Friends. Brethren. We have a vested interest. And so we care.

But it did hit. New Orleans. Again. Not as bad as Katrina 7 years ago. But there are 700,00 people without power. Lives have been disrupted. Homes flooded. Businesses lost. Property damaged. At least one death has been reported. And many thousands more have hunkered down in fear trying to weather the storm.

Yet during this time there have been many other storms. Either not reported. Or at least not well-known. Perhaps you have been in one of them.

Someone has heard a Doctor say, "I've got bad news. The tests were positive. The tumor is malignant."

A parent has been awakened in the middle of the night by a ringing telephone. The voice on the other end is heard to say between muffled sobs, "There's been an accident. It doesn't look good. You better come quick."

Family has been called around the bedside of an aged parent. With tubes everywhere. And labored breathing. Moist eyes await the inevitable.

Wife is heard to cry, "Why? Why me? Why my husband."

Friends and family have filed by the casket of a loved one. For one final time. For one more look. One more remembrance.

Why? Because storms are a part of life. Through the years I've experienced them myself. And so have most of you. The question comes, "How do you weather the storm?" Whether the hurricane or the hurt.

The answer is found in a storm nearly 2,000 years ago. When Christ was crucified. When God was nailed to a cross. When the Creator of heaven and earth was executed like a common criminal.

That Friday He experienced a storm. Nothing like any of us have ever seen. The hurt from a disciple who planted a kiss of betrayal on his cheek. Heartbreak from a friend who cursed and denied he knew him. Disappointment from followers who scattered to save their own skin. The sting of rejection from his own people who clamored for his death.

And so for six hours he suffered in agony. Exhausted from a sleepless night. Blood trickling down his face from the crown of thorns piercing his scalp. A parched throat. Swollen and cracked lips. His back raw and flesh cut to ribbons by a merciless beating. Aching muscles. Nerves throbbing from the nails holding him to the rugged wooden cross. And the mental and emotion burden of bearing our sins on the cross. Mine. And yours. Then finally death became a welcomed friend. That was Friday.

But on Sunday. The storm had passed. The sun shone. Resurrection morning arrived. And the crucified Christ was now the risen Savior. He weathered the storm. He beat the devil at his own game. He stared pain, suffering and death in the face. And won!

And so whatever storm I face, I can do it with confidence. Calmness. Composure. I have help to make it through the storm. I have hope that all will be well. And I have the heart-felt care of Him who's been there. Who survived. And who will see me through it. Sheltered. Securely. Safely.

Thanks be to God that He endured Friday's storm so I can find comfort in Sunday's Sonshine!

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