Supernatural in the Storm

The storm rolls in, dark, fierce thunderclouds.

And we question if there is a sun behind all of that.

The storm seems more real.

The Lyme seems more real. The job loss. The financial situation. The tough marriage. The death. The waiting. The infertility.

We are not alone.

Paul? You’ve been beaten, rejected, stoned, left for dead. Betrayed by Hymenaeus and Alexander, abandoned by John Mark. You’ve faced mocking, the cold derision of the stoics who remained unconvinced. You’ve been dragged through the dirt. You who were once a Pharisee of Pharisees, had reason to be proud—and now you are scarred and a homeless vagabond. You walk through the great stone gates of the Roman cities. You see the white villas, the marble fountains, the great artistry—and you serve a homeless criminal?

After all that, Paul, is the gospel still the power of God? Still the wisdom of God? Still something you are unashamed of?

“So I am eager to preach the gospel to you also who are in Rome. For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek” (Romans 1:15-16).

John? You are in exile. The church you had spent so much time in at Ephesus has now forsaken their first love (Rev. 2). You are the last of the apostles—the others have been killed. What has your message of love, your method of love gotten you? Killed by the sword. Peter was crucified. You’ve seen dear friends torn by lions. You’ve seen children forced to watch their parents be burnt as Nero’s torches. You’ve seen the power of the hate of Rome trampling over this message of love.

After all that, John, do you still believe in love? Do you still believe it is the way?

“In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins…. For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith” (1 John 4:10, 5:4).

Habakkuk? You saw the violence, iniquity, destruction, strife, violence of your own people. And now a bitter and hasty nation, dreaded and fearsome, are coming? Fiercer than leopards and evening wolves? You’ve seen fire sweep through villages, pregnant women ripped open, horror upon horror. You’ve cried out against the violence that Israel committed; now you groan in agonies too deep, that wrench your soul and body. Your only answer was more blood.

After all those tears and cries, Habakkuk, is there still joy? Is there still trust?

Russian Icon of Habakkuk

“Though the fig tree should not blossom,

    nor fruit be on the vines,

the produce of the olive fail

    and the fields yield no food,

the flock be cut off from the fold

    and there be no herd in the stalls,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord;

    I will take joy in the God of my salvation.

God, the Lord, is my strength;

    he makes my feet like the deer's;

    he makes me tread on my high places” (Habakkuk 3:17-19).

Daniel? You’ve served so many pagan kings. You’ve been faithful. You’ve seen your friends be faithful. And yet, there is no return, no hope. The Babylonian and Persian kings still command all the glory, reap all the praise, exert all the power. Your people are oppressed, aliens.

After all that, Daniel, is God still sovereign?

“And the kingdom and the dominion and the greatness of the kingdoms under the whole heaven shall be given to the people of the saints of the Most High; his kingdom shall be an everlasting kingdom, and all dominions shall serve and obey him” (Daniel 7:27).

There are times when the storm is too dark and the circumstances are too real. We doubt. The power of the gospel, the love, the joy, the sovereignty of God all seem to be hidden by the circumstances we are in. I’m not pointing you to Paul, John, Habakkuk, or Daniel. I am not a superhuman saint. I am not suggesting we try to conjure up some more strength to face the day. I am pointing you to their God—the Life Giver of Paul, the Lover of John, the Lifter of Habakkuk’s head, the Everlasting King of Daniel. He is the God who spoke to them, reassured them, inspired them, gave them his own perseverance (1 Thes. 3:5; Heb. 12:1-3), filled their hearts with a faith and a hope that could come only by the Spirit (Gal. 5:22-23; Rom. 5:1-5; Rom. 8). It takes supernatural strength to lift your eyes up in the beating rain of the storm—no matter what that is for you personally, for your church, your loved ones, in the face of the chaotic cosmos—to see above the storm clouds, through your tears, to the Son beyond the clouds. But that supernatural strength is his strength in us. We are not alone. We are with Paul’s Strength and Song, John’s Savior, Daniel’s Wisdom, Habakkuk’s Refuge. He is with us. He is in us. He is giving us the faith to look beyond, to look to him.