Recently, my husband, David, and I saw the movie Noah. And while it appears to many the writer took a few liberties with his biblical interpretation there was a moment when I grabbed my phone to capture this line from Russell Crowe:
“ The storm cannot be stopped, but it can be survived.”
I’ve experienced both literal and emotional tempests, more than a few with life-altering consequences. And, apparently, they’ve had their impact on me because for the last ten or fifteen years a reoccurring dream of mine is one where a giant funnel cloud threatens on the horizon and I’m frantic to find to my family. Of course, as it goes with dreams, I either can’t find my family or I’m stuck, running in place in slow motion and can’t get away. I always wake up just as the twister hits. Except, recently, when another storm blew through my dreams. This time, something different happened. I survived.
Even our worst storms don’t last forever.
As I’m writing this ( I kid you not) one of our famous Florida thunderstorms has just come through. It lasted about 30 minutes and now all that’s left is the faint rumble of thunder in the distance as the last raindrops splat the ground off the roof. On the lawn, there’s only a downed twig or two. No big deal.
But, sometimes, the relational, physical or financial storm we’re in feels like a Category Five
and we find ourselves ” coming-to” in shock, with strange people digging us out from what feels like mounds of splinters and shards of glass. Our life as we’ve known it looks leveled. Gasping we say, ” What in the world can possibly come from all this destruction? ( That was one of the tamer questions I put to God after the most devastating day of my life. ) At that fragile, post -storm, trauma stage
the last thing I wanted to hear was “ the sun will come out tomorrow.”
While this IS true, from the look of shrapnel, as far as the eye could see, it felt to me at the time that the biggest nightmare storm of my life must have caught God snoozing on the job. If you’ve ever felt like that, I get you.
Yet, I also saw this to be true: Once I got up from the ground and checked my limbs for gashes, it wasn’t just a cliché, behind those dark clouds I could start to see a silver lining.my
My 3 top gifts from the storm:
1) Perspective
This dreadful thing could have killed us. Yes, we’re bruised and bloody, scared and shaken. Yes, it feels like something really important has died, and sadly, maybe it has. But, wait. Some thing, someone important is still left. Our life, just moments before, so predictable and probably pretty much taken for granted, now feels vulnerable and precious. All the stuff we gave time to before this can almost look silly now. We say, “ I just saw my life, our marriage, our family, etc. flash before my eyes. But I / we are still standing . Ok, so we’re barely breathing- but it sure beats the alternative.” All that is left is all that matters now. Miraculously, we’ve been granted another day. And in tears we cling to our fellow survivors.
“It takes a real storm in the average person’s life
to make him realize how much worrying
he has done over the squalls. ” Bruce Barton
2) Clarity.
Even in immense loss there can be a strange lightness of burden as the minutiae of what once was gets stripped away. You bet, there is a shocking nakedness, a hyper disorientation to our new normal. But
there is also less now to cloud our inner vision, especially when it comes to our own souls.
After the initial fog disappears, options we never needed before or allowed ourselves to ponder begin to present themselves. We get privy to blind spots. We gain access, awareness of previously hidden, debilitating sin. If there were contributions we made that helped to feed the storm we just came through, we can better see those contributions now and begin to take responsibility for them. What can be shaken will be shaken, the bible says. And what remains in the aftermath? Nothing says it better than that line from the old Johnny Nash song: I can see clearly now the rain has gone.
3) Tenderness
The other night we watched a documentary on deserts. They showed all these rock formations that had worn smooth through centuries of wind and floods. Now think of the way a piece of meat gets tenderized by rough, aggressive pounding. After some pretty tough hits our hearts can get softer, too ( or harder and bitter depending on our response. ) I believe God intends for us to soften, become more sensitive to the pain of others after we ourselves have gone through intense hurt, to the point we want to be there for them if they’re going through a hard time. One of my favorite scriptures is 2 Corinthians 1: 3-4, “ …the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”
Not long ago, after the biggest storm of my life, women started calling, emailing and sending me Facebook messages. They had heard of my trauma and came wanting to know how they could make it through their own. I felt a strange privilege.
I was a survivor. And out of my pain I had increased capacity to hold the deep needs of others facing loss.
* If you’re in a storm, trying to dig yourself out from the aftermath or know someone who is, David and I are here @ Kairos Collective to sit with you and to remind you though it may feel like it right now, all is not lost. There is a path toward redemption and restoration.
* Let us help you see clearer and encourage you to disown the bitterness and embrace the tender-hearted grace of God. Contact us.
(Credit: Above painting by artist John Brosio)