Our new home, Bermuda, is a tiny scrap of land in the middle of the vast Atlantic Ocean. We have learned that when hurricanes threaten, wooden shutters are fastened tightly and folks hunker down, waiting for the winds and rain to batter the small island with terrific and terrifying force. Even the edge of such a storm can wreak havoc, but when a direct hit happens, an odd phenomenon occurs. At the centre of the storm, the winds die down, the noise abates, and an unearthly peace descends.
The quiet in the very middle of the cataclysm reminds me of the unearthly peace Jesus promised his disciples. It is not the absence of conflict, war or hate. The winds of evil and sin still swirl and threaten, but in that centre, there is a deep peace, a quietness, that calls to a terrified and demoralized world of another way to live.
Years ago, I sat in my car, praying desperately. I needed to go into a home battered by a hurricane of grief. The family had listened as their teenager drowned in frigid waters when the ice beneath the snowmachine shattered. I was, I thought, sent to do business for an insurance company. I could only offer them money, not the comfort of God I longed to share. It wouldn’t be appropriate to offer to pray. There was little I could do.
I was wrong. The still, small voice that sometimes whispers in my soul said “You are not here by accident. I sent you here. You are filled with my Holy Spirit, the Great Comforter. Now get out of this car and be who I’ve sent you to be. I will be working through you – even without your words.” A profound peace filled my heart. My hands shook, but my spirit was calm.
Months later, after several meetings, the Mom said, with a catch in her voice,” You know, in all these terrible months, we have had only one place of peace – whenever we’ve been with you. It is really odd!”
God sends us to be God’s “eye in the storm.” The peace that passes understanding spoke into that home and in the years after, into hospital rooms, burned down houses and accidents too horrific to recount. The Spirit of the Prince of Peace could use an ordinary person in a mundane job as a conduit to care for the broken ones He loved so much. The Prince of Peace comes into the storms of lives through the quiet presence of those who live embued with that unearthly peace.
Also find this post in Our Story Magazine.
Thoughts for Reflection
- How do Paul’s words in Philippians 4:1-9 help us find the “eye of the storm” in our own lives?
- Who has been a conduit for the “peace that passes understanding” in your life?
- Where, in the everyday-ness of your life, are you being sent to be a conduit of that peace for others?
- Spend some time picturing yourself as the toddler described in Psalm 131. Can you find the “eye of the storm” in that image?