1590527410
Trade Paperback
192 pages
Sep 2006
Multnomah

Review  |   Author Bio  |  Read an Excerpt

Excerpt:

The tempest seen off to the west,
This day shall bring my greatest test.
With knuckles white I gasp for breath,
Sweat trickles down. I think of death.
Heightened fear begins to form.
It is the calm before the storm.

All alone I pace about
Trying to control my doubt.
“Will I be okay? Will I know what to do?”
These thoughts I need the answer to.
I glance to heaven, but feel far away,
Can’t think of the right words to say.
Inside I grieve, my heart has torn.
Agony, this calm before the storm.

If only I’d walked and never stumbled.
If only my heart was truly humbled.
Had I not succumbed to the lust of the fl esh,
I might have comfort on this eve of death.
Of all the times to feel far away,
Of all the times, unable to pray.
I want to break through in some fashion or form.
I hate the calm before the storm.

Where do you turn when there’s no place to go?
Where to turn for rest for the soul?
In quiet desperation, I grasp toward Him,
Asking for peace beyond this sin.
Begging His presence once again.
Asking for hope when all is forlorn.
Hoping He’ll fill
My calm before the storm.

I watch clouds pass, the moon shines bright.
All in me wants to run from this fight.
Silence surrounds me. My heart is alone.
Then these words I hear from a Voice that I know:
“Why do you fret and why do you fear?
Why do I find your sweat and tears here?
Have I not told you in times before,
You are my son whom I cannot ignore.
I have known you since before you were born.
I’m with you now,
In the calm before the storm.”

He continues, His voice is silent and clear.
The power of His presence so oppressively near.
“As your Father, I have a secret I want you to know.
Take this with you wherever you go.
Whenever you’re faithless, I am faithful,
Even when sin has taken its toll.
For I AM the calm before the storm.
I AM here at the center of this storm.”

What a moment before was painful angst,
What before made me lose my heart and my strength,
Is now the source of what draws me close,
Makes clear Whom and what I value most.
Because this storm, as well, shall pass.
And He’s the peace that’s going to last.
His gifts of joy and pain reveal
A need in me I can’t conceal:
I need a Savior, I need a Lord
Who is
The Calm Before the Storm.

It’s 8 p.m. local time. We’ve just arrived in Kuwait, and the friendly airport people are driving over to us the stairs-onwheels that help us troopers disembark from the aircraft. My nerves are on edge just a little bit. There is a kind of excitement and fear in my gut that is making me slightly unsettled. However, I know this is the beginning of a great adventure. I look out the west window of the plane and see the moon—huge and seemingly low to the ground. I stare, temporarily forgetting where I am. I’m startled back into the present by a slap of hot air against my face as I step off the plane. I assume at first that it’s the jet wash of the Boeing 747 World Airline Aircraft. Then I realize that the engines have been stopped for some time now. The nonstop furnace blowing in my face is the desert wind.

It’s hard to imagine anywhere being 102 degrees at night, but I definitely feel like I’ve just stepped into a little kid’s Easy Bake Oven. Ironically, 102 is the low for the day, and, as I will find out in the following days, it’s pretty mild. Temperatures in the desert can peak at 150. It’s like someone sticking a hair dryer in your face, and you can’t find the off-switch.

What can I expect in this big desert? In Korea I was surrounded by lush, green mountains. Now I’m scanning what looks like an endless beach. A beach that goes all the way to the ocean two hundred miles away. Everywhere I look…nothing. The term godforsaken comes to mind.

What do the locals think of their harsh environment? I don’t think they’re exactly thrilled that they live in a desert, but after centuries they have become accustomed to it. Most of them have seen nothing else. They’re surrounded by desert in every direction!

Now, I can understand living in a desert if you have no choice. But one thing I’ve always wondered about: What was the point of Jesus voluntarily going into the desert to be tempted? And what was Paul’s pre-ministry desert sojourn all about? Moses spent forty years in the desert before leading Israel out of Egypt. Then he took them back into the desert for another forty years, before Joshua led them into the Promised Land. What is the big deal about hanging out in the desert? Nothing but scorpions, dead camels, and furnace heat. I don’t get it.

Then a realization hits me. I pace about, letting the sand slide beneath my boots, and it becomes quite apparent that there are no distractions here. Existence is reduced to the basics. Sure, absorbing the sun’s heat in quantities that would power about a million solar-powered calculators for a billion years takes some getting used to. But after you are done whining, and if you happen to be at all inclined toward the spiritual, you have all the time in the world to gain the proper perspective on God. What is the proper perspective? It’s this: He is everything and I am nothing. The desert sucks all pride out of you. It shows you your own need. It deepens your character, broadens your awareness, so that you begin to see the needs of others.

This is what Peter was saying when he wrote 1 Peter 4:1–3 to encourage Christians: “Therefore, since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because he who has suffered in his body is done with sin. As a result, he does not live the rest of his earthly life for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God. For you have spent enough time in the past doing what pagans choose to do—living in debauchery, lust, drunkenness, orgies, carousing and detestable idolatry.” The desert exercised a powerful influence in the lives of our spiritual forefathers Paul and Moses. It burned away who they had been and reshaped and solidified them into who God wanted them to be.

The desert functions the same way in our lives.

I don’t know where you are. Maybe in a desert, feeling as though someone is blasting you in the face with a hairdryer. Maybe you have trouble understanding why you are here or how you are to cope. But God lives in the desert with you. Maybe He’s using this situation to suck the pride out of you. It could be His time to show you that you are nothing apart from Him. The danger, of course, is that you might forget the refreshing love and forgiveness of God. The Kuwaitis here have no idea what a cool spring breeze coming up from a lush valley feels like. You may have forgotten what it was to live for the will of God. Maybe you’ve quit trying. You may only remember your sinfulness.

Or maybe you’re living the wonderful Christian life and you’re totally comfortable with it. You’ve never struggled through any real trials, and you’re quick to judge others who are struggling. Since you have not experienced need, you have not experienced depth. If that’s you, I challenge you to put yourself in a position where God becomes an obvious necessity. Step out of the kiddie-pool and go dive into the deep end of the grownup pool.

Are you in the desert? Is your heart wandering around in the furnace, searching for an oasis? For rest? Do you have pride that needs to be purifi ed out? Have you been operating on Christian Cruise Control with no real challenges in your life? Has the ease of your existence left you a spiritually shallow person? What needs to change?

Remember: “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6; see also 1 Peter 5:5 and Proverbs 3:34).