Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
Ah, the beauty of winter! One of the many reasons living in Ohio is a joy to me; the changing seasons. I absolutely love being snug in my kingsize bed, burrowed in the quilts and comforters, listening as the raging snowstorms howl just beyond my reach. Limbs crash against the outside walls, eerie wind melodies serenade through the nooks and crannies of this centurian farm house while endless warmth radiates from my woodburning fireplace and my dog and two cats nestle in its glow.
Yet, this Curriers and Ives painting would not be so dear without the storm. My thoughts dance with the idea that the storm is not the issue, but the refuge. Storms come and go, that is life in this realm. However, one's shelter is the key to weathering such inclement elements. If I were huddled in a cold barn or worst, caught in the open, I would not look at storms in the same light as I presently do.
Enjoyment of its pleasures can only be sought from a place of safety, knowing the storm cannot harm me.
So too, is life in general. Storms of various strengths befall us whether we are forwarned or not. We can see the good they bring only from a place of safety. Jesus demonstrated this when He slept during a violent storm on the sea with his disciples. They were terrified, for they were in the open, facing the powerfully cruel elements on their own. Amazement swept their beings as they contimplated how Jesus could sleep through such danger.
How could He do that? Very easily. His heart and soul dwelled in a sactuary of safety that could not be penetrated. He could let His weary body be rocked to sleep by the rythmic waves. The disciples were afforded the same refuge; however, they did not dwell there yet. So their refuge at the moment was Jesus Himself. We know the story's end as He spoke to the wind and the waves and rebuked those He taught for their lack of faith.
Today, this is still true. If you are unaware of where your safety resides as you are caught in the storms of life, remember, Jesus Is Still In Your Boat! With His presence, you need not fear the storm but ride it, harness its power to the glory of God.
Peace to You All and Merry Christmas...
Beth
Yet, this Curriers and Ives painting would not be so dear without the storm. My thoughts dance with the idea that the storm is not the issue, but the refuge. Storms come and go, that is life in this realm. However, one's shelter is the key to weathering such inclement elements. If I were huddled in a cold barn or worst, caught in the open, I would not look at storms in the same light as I presently do.
Enjoyment of its pleasures can only be sought from a place of safety, knowing the storm cannot harm me.
So too, is life in general. Storms of various strengths befall us whether we are forwarned or not. We can see the good they bring only from a place of safety. Jesus demonstrated this when He slept during a violent storm on the sea with his disciples. They were terrified, for they were in the open, facing the powerfully cruel elements on their own. Amazement swept their beings as they contimplated how Jesus could sleep through such danger.
How could He do that? Very easily. His heart and soul dwelled in a sactuary of safety that could not be penetrated. He could let His weary body be rocked to sleep by the rythmic waves. The disciples were afforded the same refuge; however, they did not dwell there yet. So their refuge at the moment was Jesus Himself. We know the story's end as He spoke to the wind and the waves and rebuked those He taught for their lack of faith.
Today, this is still true. If you are unaware of where your safety resides as you are caught in the storms of life, remember, Jesus Is Still In Your Boat! With His presence, you need not fear the storm but ride it, harness its power to the glory of God.
Peace to You All and Merry Christmas...
Beth
posted by beth at 4:05 PM
1 Comments:
Ahh - Life in the enchanted forest...Someone mentioned recently that those who live where it is warm year-round never know that feeling of the warmth that envelopes you as you slide beneath a cozy blanket, the soothing of a warm cup of tea or hot chocolate, or that refuge in a house with such things as the snow piles up outside the windows. I think of the peace and refuge as a bunny now comes to our bird feeder to eat the spilled corn underneath. He is not frightened, though two dogs and humans watch through the door. Such creatures know, even if we humans forget, that to never feel the cold means to never feel the warmth.
I love you, my sister Beth!
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