The Red Balloon

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Julianne.  She was the apple of her Daddy’s eye.  And from how it looked through her young brown eyes, her Daddy could do no wrong.  It all started on a Daddy-Daughter date one afternoon to the annual festival in their small town.  She giggled as her Daddy spun them faster and faster on the “Spiny ride” as she called it.  They ate corn dogs and funnel cakes on the grass as they listened to a local artist play his harmonica.  Then, just before the perfect day ended, Julianne’s Daddy whisked around with a surprise gift.  He handed her a bright red balloon, bowed and said, “My lady.”  Julianne curtseyed and they both laughed.  As Julianne held tight to her balloon in one hand and her Daddy’s hand in the other she thought how special of a day it was and how special of Daddy she had.  She squeezed her Daddy’s hand, looked up into his eyes and said, “I love you so much, Daddy.”  He smiled and said, “I love you more….” 

Suddenly a look of pain came across his face.  He let go of Julianne’s hand and grabbed at his chest.  He tried to speak, but no words came out. Julianne watched her big, strong Daddy fall to the ground. From that point on everything became a blur.  She remembered crying and then screaming.  People came running.  Then came the blare of sirens.  And the next thing she knew she was standing in a cemetery with one hand holding the hand of her mommy and the other holding the hand of her red balloon. 

She breathed a sigh of relief.  “I still have my balloon,” she thought as the minister spoke.  She starred up at the balloon and it took her back to that perfect day with her Daddy.  The rides, the corn dogs, the laughter…her Daddy made her feel like she was the most special girl in the world that day until…She stopped her thoughts from going any farther.  And right then and there at her Daddy’s grave she made a promise to herself.  “I will never let go of my daddy’s last gift to me.  I will never let go of this red balloon.  It is all I have left of a perfect day with my Daddy and I will not lose it.  No, I will never let it go.”

As anyone who has ever lost some you love knows, life has a cruel way of moving forward long before grief is ready.  The next week Julianne was back at school.  She had her back pack, her lunch box and her red balloon.  At show and tell she looked at her red balloon and told her 1^st grade class of that most perfect day at the festival with her daddy, but she did not tell them about what happened to her daddy.  Thankfully, her red balloon helped her remember the good and not the bad, which in her young mind was all the more reason not to let it go. 

I suppose no will ever know how that red balloon stayed afloat.  Some said it was a miracle—a gift from God for a little girl with a broken heart.  Other’s said it was a product of sheer will.  They said she willed that balloon into continued existence.  Others had other ideas, but they are not really worth mentioning here because how the balloon stayed afloat is not really the reason Julianne’s story is told.  The point is, Julianne would not let it go. 

As it is with anything we hold tightly, to hold one thing, one must not hold something else.  Julianne was first introduced to this truth at the school yard play ground.  “Julianne, Julianne…” called Sarah, one of Julianne’s very best friends.  “Julianne, come play with me,” Sarah said as she smiled.  Julianne smiled back and said, “I can’t Sarah, I don’t want to pop my balloon.” 

“Tie it up on the bench over there.  You can get it when we are done playing.  Let it go, let it go, Julianne, let it go and come play with me.” 

“Maybe tomorrow,” Julianne replied…but tomorrows turned into weeks and then months and after so many “no’s” even best friends learn to no longer ask.  And somehow, just being able to stare at her red balloon took away the sting of being all alone on recess day after day. 

Certainly, her red balloon was the only thing that gave her the strength to go home.  Her mommy was not mommy any more.  She laid in bed most of the day.  She took lots and lots of medicine that she said the doctors said would make her better.  But instead of getting better, her mommy got worst.

One night after taking her medicine, her Mother yelled, “Julianne, let that silly balloon go.  Your Daddy left us.  He is gone. He is never coming back.  Everyone thinks you are crazy carrying around that balloon!”  On nights like that Julianne would run and lock herself in her room, look up at her red balloon and be transported back to that magical day.  There she would forget how painful life really was.  And she would say, “I will never, ever let it go.”

Days turned into months and then years.  Her Mother took so much medicine that one day Julianne came home and found her on the floor.  She called 911 just in time.  It was the best thing that could have happened.  Her mother got help and she met a man.  Her Mother told her how nice he was; how his wife had died…how he loved God and he would love them too.  But Julianne was not a little girl any more.  She was 17 and she had made it on her own all this time. She had a Daddy that her red balloon reminded her of every day and she did not need some new man pretending to love her.

The day of the wedding came.  Her Mother came to her and said, “Julianne, I love you.  I am sorry for all I put you through when you needed me the most. I was selfish. Will you please forgive me?  Will you please let go of your balloon for just one day and be my maid of honor?”  Julianne, looked at her…there was a part of her that wanted to embrace her Mother and forgive her and tell her how happy she was that she was happy again, but not if embracing her mother meant letting go of her balloon.  Julianne stormed off like she used to do as a little girl and locked herself in her room.

A knock came at the door.  “Julianne?”  It was the voice of her soon to be older step brother, John.  She would not open the door and he said that was OK.  He said, “It will be easier to say what I need to say without looking you in the eye.”  Julianne sat with her back against the door and listened.  “Julianne, I know people say they understand and how wrong that is to say.  How can anyone understand what it is like to lose a parent when you are just a child and need them so much?  But Julianne, you have to believe me…in a big way I understand.  I lost my Mom when I was 6 years old.  It hurt so badly and it still hurts today.  I don’t know everything but one thing I have learned is that you have to let it go.  That balloon use to give you something good and that is good.  It reminded you of all you had with your Dad and that is good.  But sometimes we can hang on to even good things so long that they become bad things; even horrible things that look pretty on the outside but destroy us on the inside.  Today your Mom and my dad are getting married.  Don’t miss what could be for what can’t ever be again.  Let it go; let it go, Julianne, let it go.” 

She starred at the string around her hand. It was now yellow and hardened and…it was the most she had ever considered the thought of letting it go.  At least her would-be step brother half way sounded like he knew what he was talking about; at least he had lost someone like she had…” But then she looked up at that red balloon…it was the one constant…it was the one thing that always was able to bring her back to happier thoughts; he did not understand…she would never have made it without that balloon.  No, she could never let it go.  She sat in the room while her Mother married.  Her Mother cried, but she knew that just like herself, Julianne was now making choices of her own. She would have to trust God to find Julianne as she had been found by God herself. 

Julianne graduated from high school, but she did not walk with her class.  The principal said no balloons in the ceremony and so she kindly declined.  She went on to college…the world was much crueler among those who did not know her.  At least those in her small home town tried to understand.  They were at least sympathetic to her need for that red balloon.  But in the real world, now one knew her story and no one cared, which was fine with her because she was tired of telling it.  She graduated from college and landed her first interview in the big city.  Strangely enough in the big city, with all of its crowd and oddities, Julianne did not really stand out as she walked down the street in her business dress, high-heels and carrying a brief case in one hand and a red balloon in the other.  Even the interview went great until the CEO said, “Miss, we are very impressed with your work.  Your interview has gone better than all the others put together.  We truly believe you would be a great fit for my company.  But I have to ask you…well…what is with the red balloon?  Is it a way to get us to remember you in a sea of applicants; is it a metaphor for what you want us to know you are all about…tell us what it is about?”

Julianne was silent…no one had ever asked her so directly.  She said, “Um…when I was a little girl…well…my Daddy…and…”  The room filled with awkward discomfort.  “It’s OK said the CEO, “We don’t need to know about the balloon.  It obviously has an important story that over the years of working with us we will earn the right to hear, but just so we are clear, as I am sure you already know, you cannot bring that balloon to the office with you.” 

Julianne sat stunned…denial can be a powerful tool…it can allow one to think things reasonable that make no sense at all.  Julianne collected her things as she collected herself. She stood and she said, “Thank you so much for your time.  It would appear this position will not be a good fit.”  And with that she turned and she and her red balloon walked down the hall.  The farther she walked the faster she walked.  She broke out of the doors of the skyscraper and her emotions broke out of her.  She tried to hold her tears back.  It was like there was a war raging in her.  She had not lost it like this since the day her daddy…she stopped…she looked up at her red balloon…”Yes,” she thought and she took a deep breath, “help me remember…corn dogs and spiny rides and...” But all she could see was her daddy lying on the ground.  She began to cry…then she started to run…she ran and ran until one heel broke and she fell.  As she used the stairs of some old building to help her get back on her feet.  She looked up and saw a simple sign that said, “Our chapel is open every day for everyone who might one to come in and pray.” 

She was not interested in praying, but she was interested in hiding.  She burst into the huge old church.  She walked down its marble floors and sat in its hard wooden bench.  She hugged her red balloon and she sobbed.  She sobbed for all the years she did not sob.  She felt all she had refused to feel since that last day with her daddy when she was 7 years old.  Anger, fear, powerlessness, despair, bitterness, loneliness…you name it she had felt it over the years and that day she felt it all at once.  It was too much to bear.  And now, as if that were not enough, she faced the hard truth that she could not live without her balloon and she could not live with her balloon.  She thought that again…I can’t live with it and I can’t live without it. What kind of choice was that…to know that no matter what you do you cannot live?   She cried and she cried and she cried until she heard…

“Julianne…”

She looked up and all around…who said that? There was a homeless man sleeping in the pew across from her…he did not say her name.  There was an elderly woman praying at the front...it was not her.  There was a mother with a toddler talking with the priest...they were too absorbed in their own conversation to speak to her.  Now on top of everything else she thought, “I am hallucinating.”

“Julianne” 

There it was again…she frantically looked around….

“You are not hallucinating, Julianne, you are hearing me for the first time.” 

“Hearing who?,” she whispered. 

“Your Father…”

“My Father is dead…”

“I am not that Father that you knew when you were a little girl, I am Father that I hope you will get to know now that you are a woman. I am your heavenly Father.”

“God?” 

“Yes, you can call me that too. But I prefer Father.”

“What do you want?  Why do you want to talk to me now?  Why did you wait so long?”

“Good questions…the truth is I have been speaking to you all your life…this was just the first time you were ready to hear me for who I am.”

“Well, you have something to say then say it.”

“Let it go, Julianne…”

“Like I haven’t heard that before.  I’ve heard that all my life.” 

“Like I said, I have been speaking to you long before today.”

Julianne said nothing, which was the appropriate thing to do considering with whom she was having conversation.

So the Father spoke… “Julianne, I know how hard it is to let go.” 

Julianne raised her eyes brows and tried not to let her skepticism show.

The Father went on anyway, “I sent my son to a people who I knew would reject him.  He came to love them for me.  He came to show them who I truly am, but because he did not act or talk or think or even dress like they thought I should they plotted for his death. He prayed for me to stop it.  “Take this cup from me, Daddy,” my son prayed.  I could have you know. I could have stepped in with one word, “Enough!”  And it would have all been over…the angels of heaven wailed and pleaded for me to stop my son’s pain.  But I did nothing. And when my boy screamed, “My God, My God why have you forsaken me,” I thought I might die too.  All I could do was sit in heaven and weep.”

Julianne burned with anger…”What kind of Father are you? My Daddy would have never let me hurt like that.  My Daddy…”

“Your Daddy is dead, Julianne. And you want to know why I did nothing to stop it. That is what you are really angry about, right?” 

Julianne could not speak now.  Tears burned as they flowed down her cheeks.

“Julianne, people ask questions they say they need to understand in order to let it go and live.  But the truth is people ask questions less for understanding and more for permission to never let go.  It’s OK to ask questions, but will the answer give you anything that letting go cannot?”

Julianne was not entirely pleased with this answer but somehow it made some sort of sense.  Perhaps it was as much how he said it as what he said.  He spoke the truth but it felt safe and warm and loving.

“Julianne,” He continued, “I let go of my son and let him die not because I did not love him, but because I loved him for the whole world. And I let him go to show everyone in this broken world how to let go. Sin has left its mark of pain and loss on everyone.  For some people you can see it like a red balloon tied to their wrist and for others it’s kept in more secret places, but every person, every group, even my church has something for which it holds onto for dear life, but it is bringing about their very death.  I let go of my son to show the whole world what happens when you trust me enough to let it go.”

“What happens?”  Julianne whispered.

“If you will let go of your balloon I can show you? If you won’t let go then even if I tell you my word will not matter.  But it is your choice.”

Julianne sat and starred at her balloon for what seemed like an eternity.  Her mind was racing with thoughts.  Suddenly, she came to the same conclusion…I can’t live without this balloon and I can’t live with it.  If I can’t live either way, what do I have to lose?  It was much harder than she thought it would be.  This balloon was now not just something she held, but something that had a hold of her. It was actually frightening.  She struggled.  She wept.  Then as if it were a person, she spoke to it and said, “I am going to let you go. In many ways you got me through the worst time of my life.  But now you are killing me and I have to let you go.”

Right there in that church, she slipped off the string and let it go.  The balloon floated slowly all the way to the top of the cathedral ceiling.

As she starred at it, the Father whispered, “That is what happens when you let it go.   One day, 2 days…I let go of my only son.  Hell itself laughed in denial; acting as if they would never let him go.  But Hell could not hold then or now what does not belong to it and on the third day, my boy arose…like that balloon of yours…he rose up out of that grave and 40 days later he floated all the way to heaven.  He now sits at my right side and every day since your daddy died, my son has been interceding on your behalf, Julianne.  He has been praying to me for you to let it go so you can let us show you your own resurrection.”

Julianne sobbed again, but this time it was a cleansing cry.  It was like she felt the Father letting years’ worth of pain, lies and regrets be lifted off her and carried away with the red balloon.

Life was not always easy after that moment, but it was definitely different and the difference was good.  It was a difference that others noticed and it was a difference that bore fruit as she dedicated the rest of her life to helping others learn to let it go.  When those she serves ask her how to let it go, she tells this her story and then she simply says, “Now, you have to decide for yourself if you trust Jesus or not when he says, “Whoever tries to hold onto their life will lose it, but those who trust me enough to let it go will gain life all the more.”  

And Canton First Church Family, it is not just we as individuals who the Father asks us to trust him enough to let go of our own red balloons.  It is also the command of Jesus Christ to we his church.  In Revelation 1:19, Jesus says (read).  Before we can attempt to understand anything that Revelation might tell us about the future, we must first understand what it said in the first century to 7 real churches of its day.  And we must understand that Jesus sends a word to the “angel” of those 7 churches.  Like most of the Book of Revelation symbolism and metaphors are used to communicate the truth that will set us free.  In this case, “angel” does not refer to a heavenly being, but to a “red balloon” if you will. Like the little girl, Jesus says each of the seven churches have a collective messenger or spirit or attitude or persona or ethos that looked pretty on the outside; it seemed reasonable, justifiable and even spiritual to hold onto, but Jesus comes to each church and says if you don’t let it go; this red balloon, this angel, this collective spirit will bring your church to its grave.  So, for the next 7 weeks we will explore what Jesus said 5 of the churches had to let go so that they would not condemn themselves to death and what two of the churches had to continue to resist the temptation to grab hold of so they could continue in the way of life.  We will take this journey not just to ask what red balloon did Jesus tell them to let go of, but so we, the Canton First Family, might humbly and openly ask Jesus to reveal to us any red balloon we have too long held onto or any that we presently tempted to embrace.  Then we will commit 2 weeks to prayer and fasting asking God to reveal any red balloon we must repent of so we can more fully embrace his abundant life as a church now and for the generations to come. 

This is the heart of a refocus.  We can make changes to structure and programming.  We can develop leaders.  We can find our calling.  We can move into the community for Christ’s sake.  We can be determined to change the statistic that says 59% of kids raised in the church will leave the church and their faith when they graduate high school. We can quit bogging ourselves down with too much and do less more effectively, but even if we do all of this, as Jesus said, “What does it profit a church to gain the whole world and yet forfeit our very collective soul?”

So, for this series we will listen to the Spirit through Jesus word to the seven churches as we learn about what red balloon angel they were told to let go and then we will spend two weeks in prayer and fasting and finally on September 27 we will come together to hear what red balloon it would seem through the Spirit that Jesus is saying for us to let it go.

But before we take even one step in that direction, we must first hear what the Apostle John heard before he began that same journey so long ago.  Rev. 1: 17-18. (read). 

Don’t be afraid.  Isn’t that interesting in a book of the Bible that has often been turned into a weapon of fear, Jesus starts it with the words, “Don’t be afraid.”  We need not fear Jesus rebuke to let it go.  His rebuke holds with in it the promise and hope of sweet release.  He speaks his truth not to harm us but to free us even if it does sting.  So, receive his invitation…feel his hand on your shoulder as he says to you and me and us, “Don’t be afraid.”

Why do we need not be afraid?  Because we are told to let go so that we can better hold on to who he is. 

He is the first and the last.  The alpha and the omega.  The beginning and the end.  In a world in which commercial airlines are shot down, 27 million people are held as captives in human trafficking and children in our own neighborhood go hungry and without clothes, Jesus has not left the building.  He always has, does and always will care and act in love.  Don’t be afraid, you can count on his love no matter what happens in this broken world.

He is the Living One.  Nietzsche said God is dead; now Nietzsche is dead and our Savior lives! He is not a memory of a prophet or a good man who lived long ago.  He himself is the resurrection and the life and only in him do we embrace life abundant now and forever.  Don’t be afraid…“Because…”

He is was dead, but behold he is alive now and forever.  His death was our life.  His death was our victory.  His death secured our future.  His death revealed how high and long and deep is his love.  Don’t be afraid because if he can overcome death there is not a red balloon, angel or demon or power or principality of any kind, he can’t overcome for you and for his church!

He holds the keys of death and hades.  Satan is not equally powerful as God.  The only thing Satan is good at Jesus said is lying.  Satan knows he has lost, so all he can do is try to get us to believe the lie that he is in control.  But he is nothing more than a snake with his head cut off.  Because of Jesus, Satan has lost his bite and all he can do now is try to scare us with his flailing dead body. Don’t be afraid. Jesus has a master plan and Satan is not a part of it. 

So, will you join me in the next 7 weeks of listening to Jesus’ word to the seven churches of Revelation, letting the Spirit speak to you; to us?  Will you then join me in two weeks of prayer and fasting after our study of the 7 churches?  And then on September 27, will you ask with me for the Spirit to reveal any red balloon CFNAZ has been holding onto that Jesus, if we let it go, will in turn replace with new life?

If so, then come forward take a red balloon and put that balloon in your car, on your refrigerator, on your bathroom mirror…any place that will help you to remember to pray and seek God’s voice of truth…

What Happens When Fishermen Stop Fishing?

“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men” (Matthew 4:19).

Jesus called fishermen like Peter, James and John to leave behind their fishing nets so they could follow him in becoming fishers of men. Obviously, the call of Jesus still remains for us.  We are to be fishers of people.  The sea is filled with people, just like we once were, who don’t even know they are without hope, broken in sin and missing out on life now and forever.  Our first calling, according to Jesus, is to follow him to the lake and take up the fishing pole.  But what happens when fishermen/women stop fishing?

Max Lucado, in one of his short stories, summed it up best when he wrote, “When fishermen stop fishing, they fight.”

If I looked to experience as my instructor I would say Max Lucado is exactly right.  In my own life, in the life of the church I was a part of starting in Centerville, OH and now in our Canton First family, I can point to examples of how that truism plays out in real life:  When fishermen stop fishing, they fight.

When fishermen stop fishing they start complaining about how dark the world is.  They forget that the world, without Christ, can’t be anything but dark and the church is responsible for taking the light into the world.  So, really wherever the world is darkest, we ought not blame the world or Satan or blow it off by saying, “The end is near,” but we ought to say, “Lord, give us the courage, love and wisdom to go fishing with your light.”  In other words, the best fishing is in the dark (Peter, James and John actually did their fish fishing at night so maybe it was easier for them to see the darkness of the world as good fishing territory).  But when fishermen stop fishing they don’t think or pray or act like they are called to join Jesus in chasing the darkness away with his light.  So they choose to sit on the shore and fight over what’s wrong with the world and the church today.

When fishermen stop fishing they start fearing change more than seeing God in the change.  Nothing is the same ever.  We know this but we live in denial of this.  Today is different from yesterday.  Tomorrow will be different from today.  This idea that things are changing fast is true but also often used as permission to live in denial of the reality of what has always been since God started creating--he introduced something new to our world every day. “Change is the only constant,” as some would put it.  When we stop following Jesus to the lake to catch the lost, broken and doubting, we will fight with each other over what programs to keep or not keep, what color the carpet is and what kind of music we sing.  Why? Because we are not made to fear change, but to fish.  When fishermen don’t fish, they fight over what they think should or should not change.

When fishermen stop fishing they start thinking that God needs help in transforming people’s lives.  They become uncomfortable with thinking that God knows best how and when to call people to repentance.  And so rather than do what they are called to do and that is fish, they justify their lack of fishing for the “worthy cause” of cleaning the fish that were caught 50 years ago.  Sure those fish now stink because we have scoured the life right out of them, “But if we don’t tell people how to live right how will they know?” they say.  When fishermen don’t fish they fight over what is the best way to clean the fish.

I will let you go on with your own examples of fighting rather than fishing.  But today my question is:  What could happen in a church…what could happen in the world…if even one church family would make up their mind in Christ to stop fighting and fish?  Yes, that’s the question I want to see my kids see us answer.  What happens when we stop fighting and live and die fishing?

A Hug in the Morning

I try to plan Wednesdays as my marathon day rather than be away from the family multiple evenings.  So, today I knew the kids would be in bed before I am finished with my last appointment.  Of course, today they decided to sleep in longer than their normal 6:30 or 7 AM wake up time.  I normally leave the house by 7:15, but I decided to linger a little longer in hopes of seeing them.

Seth was the first to wake up.  He staggered to the couch trying to get his eyes to adjust from a good night’s rest.  I sat down next to him and he laid his head on my chest.  I pulled him close and he said, “You want to play Mario Brothers with me?”  “One game,” I said, “I need to go to work.”  I played one game thinking that may be Anna would rise from her slumber before I left.  We played our game, Anna was still in bed and so I said my goodbyes and was out the door.  I was just starting to pull out of the garage when I heard, “Daddy!”  I looked up the stairs and there was my baby girl, who is quickly becoming less and less my baby, “I want to give you a hug before you leave.”  Work could wait.  I put it in park, got out of the car and she jumped up into my arms.  It was one of those long, I-am-still-waking-up-hugs, that I think every parent must love.  “I love you so much Daddy,” she whispered. 

Perhaps as you read this you see a rather sappy child-father moment that just about any parent could share.  And, I will give you that…on one level that is all it is without context.  Let me put it this way…do you ever have a day when you wake up and you just feel like the weight of the world is pressing down on you?   Do you ever wake up feeling like you have to fight off discouragement before you even brush your teeth?  Do you ever have days when for some reason that you can’t even put your finger on you feel very alone?  If so, then put the above sappy father-child story into that context.  Now, what do you see in that story? 

I will tell you what I see…saw…I saw God the Father finding a way to come down from heaven and give me a hug in the morning through the little arms of my children.  In case you have not figured it out by now J I am not exactly the “warm fuzzies” kind of person.  I may not be strong and athletic; I may not enjoy sports or work on cars or have the ability to fix things, but I come from a long-line of Current men who are normally characterized as firm, honest and strong in their convictions with a good dose of out- right stubbornness.  But that does not mean we do not appreciate and, frankly, need a hug in the morning every once in a while.  So, I thank God for not only my children’s hugs this morning but for using that moment as a way of revealing his presence.

I share this with you is because I am convinced that if we will have our eyes open, then every child of God can experience a hug in the morning from the Father in Heaven every morning.  I would suggest that you and I both would be well served not to leave the house until we have waited on him to reveal his presence every morning.  It’s more than reading a Bible verse and regurgitating a prayer you say every day out of habit.  It is about becoming desperate to encounter the Holy presence of God. It is about expecting that any moment the Father is going to come down the steps and offer his renewing embrace.  It is about refusing to pretend we can make it through whatever the day may hold without a fresh encounter from him.  It’s about not settling for knowing about God and longing to increasingly know and be known by God.  Simply put, it is about lingering as long as it takes to receive a hug in the morning by none less than the living God. You get the feeling the Psalmists of old mastered this way of living a long time ago:  “Morning by morning, O Lord, you hear my voice; morning by morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation” (Psalm 5:3). 

So, what about you?  Did you have your hug this morning?  If not, I have good news.  The Father has been known to give hugs in the afternoon as well.  All it takes is a little time to linger. 

Just Pull Over

While we were on vacation we visited Mt. Rushmore.  We chose to make our visit during the evening so we could participate in the lighting ceremony.  Around 8:30 PM and announcement was made that because a storm as headed toward Mt. Rushmore the evening lighting ceremony was cancelled and the park would be closing. 

We took a few more pictures and then began to rush back to our vehicle.  The sky was growing very dark and the wind was intensifying.  I thought, “Lord, please let me get down this mountain before the storm hits.”  My prayer was answered.  As I hit the foot of the mountain, the heavens broke open.  It was a down pour and the lightening…I have never seen lightening like this…it was like trying to drive through strobe lights.  I took it slow and we were doing fine.  We were three miles from our hotel.  Just as I was beginning to think, “We’ve got this!” the heavens opened even more and the rain became even more of a downpour.  My windshield wipers were doing nothing and as if that and the strobe like lightening were not enough, it then began to hail.  It sounded like someone was beaming our mini-van with golf balls.  I literally could not see more than a foot or two in front of me.  I looked at Kimberly and said, “Help me find a place to pull over.”

Kimberly looked out the passenger window and saw a huge, lit up cross.  She said, “Turn here.” 

“Where?” I asked.

“There is a driveway right here. Turn now!” 

I turned though I could not see what she saw.  Then I drove as close to the church building as I could in my attempt to find some shelter from the storm.  And then we sat.  There was nothing to do, but wait. 

Wait.  Now, there is word of which I am not a fan.  Trust me…I did not want to pull over. I wanted to get to the hotel.  But sometimes the only thing you can do is pull over. 

That is not just true when you are driving through a storm, but also when you are facing a storm in life that is not made of lightening and hail, but just as blinding. In my role, I have had had the honor of listening as people share their burdens.  Just yesterday I listened to a new believe share of her past hurts—I still shake my head in disbelief at the level of harm that can be inflicted on a person way back when they are a child.  Then I stood in a hospice room with a family.  We prayed and sand a song, but I left there with my heart broken for this family who has lost the one they love way before what should have been her time.  Yes, the storms of this life blow through all of our lives, don’t they?  Abuse, financial ruin, dashed dreams, failed relationships, betrayal, illness and death, to name a few.

When the storms of life come, it seems we are tempted to try to find something to do or say.  But my experience is doing something is usually our feeble attempt to not face the store and saying something is often something we end up regretting later.  So, I am trying to learn to put into practice this truth when the storms of life come:  Sometimes the only thing you can is pull over.

In our culture of hurry and busyness little room is made for waiting.  But if we will listen to those who have gone before us we can embrace the wisdom of waiting.  Isaiah the prophet said, “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles;…they shall run and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint.” 

The practice of waiting…the spiritual discipline of pulling over in the midst of the storm is not inactivity, but as Max Lucado says, “InHIMactivity.”  When we pull over and wait upon the Lord, we open ourselves in the midst of the storm to experience the presence of God in a way that puts a wind beneath our wings…strength is found in this place of waiting that would never be found if you kept on driving in search of it.  A renewal is experienced that would otherwise be impossible in when one is being beaten down by a storm. 

Do you feel like you are driving through a storm?  Sometimes the best thing you can do is just pull over.