the storm

She had a storm inside of her. She felt it brewing months ago, but hushed and hushed and hushed it. Wasn’t her life supposed to be characterized by peace and joy? Shhh… she whispered to the storm. I am not supposed to feel you.
She smiled and became more centered on the outside. She spoke truth into the lives of others. She shared her faith. But the storm, it grew and it grew. She could hear the thunder clanging in hear head so loudly that at times she was barely able to focus on conversation. I don’t want to burden them, she thought. I don’t want to become narcissistic. Shhhh…. storm, please, please. She would wake early and think about how to rid herself of the storm, to be closer to the One her heart desired.
He walked with her every day. She sat at her desk and brewed. He sat with her, patiently. She got in her car and cried. He was with her. He waited for her to look at Him, but she was so busy sorting out the storm and painting her serene face that it was difficult. All the while, she never knew what she was doing. What keeps me from the one I love? What keeps me?
Look at me, daughter, look at me beloved, He spoke, but the storm was so loud…
Finally, He intervened. He brewed a storm on the outside to draw out the one within. Let her see that she is building her life on sand. He carefully weaved the storm, and allowed her real hurt. She could not smile on her own any longer. When you sit in a steamed room, the steam draws out the water within. So it was with her storm. The rain on the outside matched that within. She was no longer in control of her life, and she knew it.
She fell to her face and cried, Lord, I do not know the way to which you are going! He replied, I am the way, the truth, and the life. She sighed. She had heard it before.
No, daughter. There is no path to me apart from me. You do not get your storm together to come to me. The point is not your perfection, the point is me. Look in my eyes. Look at my hands and my feet. Look at me. Lock your eyes there, and do not look away.”
She looked up with tear brimmed eyes, so relieved at having the storm on the outside, and yet, fearful of losing control. What have I to lose, she though? This is not the way. She reached for His hand, and He caught her.

“We know have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, and not from ourselves.” I Cor 4:7

“Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go to late rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sheep.” Psalm 127:1-2