Katdish.net

image courtesy of photobucket.com

On the morning of September 11, 2001 and the hours and days immediately following the terrorist attacks, life as usual for U. S. citizens came to an abrupt and collective halt. We eventually resumed our lives, forever changed but cognizant of the fact that life does indeed continue. Such will be the case for the people of Japan and other places around the world touched and forever changed by natural and man-made disasters and acts of violence.

As difficult as large scale disasters are, there is a degree of comfort in shared tragedy, knowing you are not alone in your suffering. But what of personal tragedy? How do you deal with life around you moving forward when the life you know is suddenly ripped out from under you?

I’ve been pondering this question quite a bit this past week. So much so that a friend suggested that I would hear something at church Sunday morning that God needed me to hear. My friend was right. Jeff’s sermon, which he had planned long before personal tragedies touched the lives of so many of our church family last week was “Hope in Suffering”.

One of the songs we sang was Matt Redmond’s “You never let go”. We’ve sang this song numerous times, but the lyrics meant much more this time:

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
Your perfect love is casting out fear
And even when I’m caught in the middle of the storms of this life
I won’t turn back
I know You are near

And I will fear no evil
For my God is with me
And if my God is with me
Whom then shall I fear?
Whom then shall I fear?

Chorus:
Oh no, You never let go
Through the calm and through the storm
Oh no, You never let go
In every high and every low
Oh no, You never let go
Lord, You never let go of me

And I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
A glorious light beyond all compare
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
We’ll live to know You here on the earth

Chorus:

Yes, I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
Still I will praise You, still I will praise You

If you are walking in the shadowlands right now, please know that God has you in his grip and he will never let go of you. He is close even when he feels a million miles away.

“He heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds.” -Psalm 147:3

I heart books. Yes, I did get a Kindle for Christmas, and yes, I do intend to read lots of books on it, but there’s something about the feel of a book in your hand that an electronic device just can’t replicate.

Have a little faith by Mitch Albom is a wonderful book. From its book jacket made to look like an old prayer journal to its ragged pages — it is a beautiful specimen. Oh, and the writing is good, too. The story begins when Albom’s aging rabbi, Albert Lewis (aka The Reb), asks him to deliver his eulogy. As the title would suggest, it is a story about faith. The faith of Rabbi Lewis, Mitch Albom, and an inner city Detroit street thug/drug dealer turned minister, Henry Covington. But this is not meant to be a book review, I simply wanted to share a passage with you.

From a Sermon by the Reb (Rabbi Lewis), 1975

A man seeks employment on a farm. He hands his letter of recommendation to his new employer. It reads simply, “He sleeps in a storm.”

The owner is desperate for help, so he hires the man. Several weeks pass, and suddenly, in the middle of the night, a powerful storm rips through the valley. Awakened by the swirling rain and howling wind, the owner leaps out of bed. He calls for his new hired hand, but the man is sleeping soundly.

So he dashes off to the barn. He sees, to his amazement, that the animals are secure with plenty of feed. He runs out to field. He sees the bales of wheat have been bound and are wrapped in tarpaulins. He races to the silo. The doors are latched, and the grain is dry.

And then he understands. “He sleeps in a storm.”

My friends, if we tend to the things that are important in life, if we are right with those we love and behave in line with our faith, our lives will not be cursed with the aching throb of unfulfilled business. Our words will always be sincere, our embraces will be tight. We will never wallow in the agony of “I could have, I should have.” We can sleep in the storm.

And when it comes time, our good-byes will be complete.

***

Are you able to sleep in a storm?