We wait at the end of the driveway for the school bus, Nick and I. Drizzle and gray and damp cold with no sun seen for three days straight—we know this weather well here, this time of year. Sometimes it’s hard to keep believing there’s a sun up there when all looks dreary. But we believe, don’t we?
I’m reminded of the day I flew out of Milwaukee a few years back. Skies were black. Lightening cracked the sky, veining darkness with glory streaks. And as the plane ascended, in a brief moment, the nose cut through thick cloud cover and I saw the perfect celestial circle keeping our planet from being hurled into space beyond where any human has been—beyond where any human has seen. Above the black was white so bright I squinted reflexively, no longer able to see the reality below. But I believed because I had seen. From one reality to another in just a second—from dark to light. And I thought—This is why I believe in God. Because not everything we see is everything there is. And I have experienced enough evidence of unseen realities that faith has been born and raised in me. Though living in lack of full vision presently, I believe in what I cannot see.
So when life looks bleak from my perspective, I ask God to lift me off the ground to a higher place—a place of grace—and remind me that this day is but a day—this week is but a week. And I am beyond words grateful that Jesus knows storms. He has walked through them, slept through them, and commanded them to calm. Even the storms obeyed! Who else can command nature? Who else can direct eternity? I believe.
I believe I am in good hands, this day—this bleak and gray day. Because though the sun is not shining outside, inside I can feel the warmth of His glory. In my mind’s eye—in the eye of the storm—I can see Him in His glory coming. He’s on His way. This day is temporary, as is this life. But His reign is eternal and so is the Life He gives.
So when I’m stuck in the rain and the lightening threatens and I can’t see what I know exists beyond, I will hold on. And I don’t even have to hold on when I can’t. When I slip from weak grip, I still need not fear, for HE holds ME. That’s how good our God is! HE holds US in our weakness—in our weak bodies—our weak minds—our weak spirits. He IS our strength. Will I humble myself and rely?
We humans love our independence, especially over here on this half of the globe. But I’ve been humbled by circumstances beyond my control and I’m doing all I can do—falling back and into the able arms of my loving God—my sufficient Savior—who lifts me up and keeps me going forward, even when I’m too blind to see, even when my faith waivers and I cry out for His hand to keep me from sinking in turbulent waters. He loves to love us, even me of so little faith sometimes—especially in the storms of life—in the gray and bitter days.
Today, in my cloud blanket cathedral of now, I WILL to believe beyond what I can see—to praise the One I know exists—the One who IS love—who IS peace. And I WILL to let Him hold me. The Son is coming again—in brightness our flesh eyes have never known—in glory that will consume all dark. And He is already here—in the hearts of all who dare to believe—who dare to receive. My God, You alone are worthy to receive honor and glory and praise! For when we are at our weakest, You become most real in our hearts. And that’s REALITY, not fantasy. Your ways are not ours. They are higher—so much higher. What a hope we have—all because of Jesus! And I say, Thanks in advance for all You are—for all you are doing—for how perfectly you love—even when my eyes can’t yet see.
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1
No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him—but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit. I Corinthians 2:9-10