storms

The God of the In Between

August 19, 2019 by Gindi Leave a Comment

Storms speckled the radar map between Knoxville, where we sat in the airport, and Houston, where we hoped to safely arrive later that evening.

I watched the radar like a hawk. The control freak in me willing the storms to adjust themselves out of the way of our little plane. I kept watching even as they loaded us onto the plane in plenty of time to make our arrival time.

The flight attendant got on and said, the flight time will be an hour and 52 minutes once we take off. We will shut the doors in 5 minutes.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Surely the storms weren’t that bad. All was well. Until it wasn’t. Only moments later, a new announcement, same voice. As you may have seen, there are a number of storms. Flight control is determining a new route for the plane. And Houston is limiting the number of flights landing right now. We’ll let you know when we can push back. We expect the new route will be longer.

I called Bray. Told him not to bother picking us up – I had no idea when we’d land. I stayed upbeat and fun for little bit since we were on the way home from our mommy and me trip. But inside, my stomach churned and I worried. We’d already had a bumpy landing into Knoxville and we weren’t facing the storms ahead.

Have you ever had a bumpy landing? On a flight? In life? Has your new route ever been longer?

She and I looked at the radar and selected the route we would have drawn out if we were flying the plane. We only have to go up and around them, she announced with a smile. Look!, and her finger traced the route north of Knoxville, into Arkansas, and down to Texas.

We took off one hour later.

The ride was surprisingly smooth. They never did announce what route they selected. Or how long the flight would be. And then, just like that, we started to descend.

We looked out the window and saw this brilliant yellow light. Thin clouds above and storm clouds below. The piercing yellow and white beams lighting up the in between.

My breath caught. It’s like I could hear Him saying, I’m here in the in between. I’m God enough to light up this space between the storms.

And we landed. Wheels touching down 40 minutes after our scheduled arrival. I don’t have any idea how that happened.

But what stayed with me was the image. The reminder. That I serve a God of the in between.

I’ve been in a different kind of storm lately. And to be honest, I haven’t much wanted to find out how God wanted me to handle it or move through it. In fact, my Godly best friend gave me sage advice last week, and I gave her an honest reply. I hear you, and I know that’s probably what God would want me to do, but I’m just not at all interested in doing that right now.

This weekend, I was up a lot in the middle of the night. The baby spiked a huge fever and I was up with cold cloths and Tylenol and his inhaler. Now, right before school is going to start, I questioned in my sleep deprived thoughts.

But my mind went back to this image. The in between.

We sat in the urgent care yesterday. His feverish body curled up and dozing in my arms. Tests turned up nothing. Probably a virus, the doctor advised, and you just have to wait it out. The in between.

Driving to work in the still dark hours this morning, I stewed in my thoughts. On a lark, I changed the radio from NPR to KSBJ, our local Christian music station. Normally, if I’m not voxing friends on my commute, I catch up on the news or podcasts. But it wasn’t what I needed this morning.

A song came on:
I’m gonna sing, in the middle of the storm
Louder and louder, you’re going to hear my praises roar,
Up from the ashes, hope will arise
Death is defeated, the King is alive!
I raise a hallelujah, in the presence of my enemies
I raise a hallelujah, louder than the unbelief…
I raise a hallelujah, heaven comes to fight for me (Bethel Music)

The God of the in between.

Tears pricked my eyes as I turned the music up louder and sang as a fight song.

Those in between seasons are tricky. Sifting and uncertain. Maybe there will be bumps or maybe there won’t. Maybe there will be delays or maybe there won’t (although there probably will). Storms waging and breaking. Darkness seeping in and light pushing it back.

Those of us who struggle daily between faith and control wrestle with how to behave in those times. God knows what is going to happen but we still sit, with our little human radar, willing the storms to move a certain direction or trying to telepathically instruct the pilot on the best route to take through them.

The in between. The place between where you left and where you’re going. The place between the storm and the clearing. It’s in that place you can really find God, or you can leave Him.

I decided this morning I was going to find Him. And I would do this week differently than I did last week. And in the between, in the mystery and uncertainty, I’d let God pilot through this storm.

I raise a hallelujah, with everything inside of me
I raise a hallelujah, I will watch the darkness flee
I raise a hallelujah, in the middle of the mystery
I raise a hallelujah, fear you lost your hold on me!

Landing in a Storm

May 2, 2016 by Gindi Leave a Comment

plane1

I drove to work under low gray clouds and yet another downpour. Our city is collectively praying we all dry out soon.

As my car turned northward over the high overpass, I watched a jetliner glint in the sky ahead. I’m used to seeing airplanes so near the airport on this turn, but this one caught my eye. The jet appeared to effortlessly slice through the storms and heavy clouds as he began his final descent into the city. It was beautiful to watch.

Yet I know, from years of spring travel, that those traveling on the inside of those airplane walls have an entirely different experience. They’ve watched their mode of transport move closer to the lightning bolts. As they move into a stormy and windy city, the airplane tosses them about such that even the most seasoned traveler’s stomach lurches into her throat and her fingers tighten around the armrest.

They make it to the ground safely, and the traveler knows that they almost certainly will, but the physical reaction to the storms around her can’t be stilled. While the outsider, watching from the safety of the ground, admires the beauty and power of the jetliner against the stormy skies.

This is a big week for us.

That’s what I thought as I watched that plane this morning.

There will be good that’s going to happen, so any spectator watching from the ground will probably just think we’re all doing grand despite the storms.

You see, on Friday, the love of my life and I will celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. And oh there’ll be a post devoted just to that later this week.

Also, I have a big speaking engagement Friday too. I’m excited but still preparing and hope I find the exact right message to bring.

It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday too. My mom has been sick, so we’re all just praying she’s back to 100% by this weekend.

But then, there is hard. We’re in the thick of the storms too.

This is our last week with our nanny. Maria has been with us since the week before I went back to work in January 2010. That’s six and a half years. She’s like family, and even though it was time for this new phase, we’ve all been a little weepy.

Then, the kids school wraps in a couple of weeks, and since they’re moving to a new place next fall, it’s like we’re losing family there too.

Plus, I’m coming to grips that the kids will be at the farm a lot this summer with dad which is awesome for the kids but hard on this mom who has an intense work season ahead and won’t see them almost every night like I have for six and a half years. And my husband is in a new season and our family is moving into a new season and there is a WHOLE LOT OF CHANGE.

I have such kind people who speak encouraging words to me when I meet them about how much they admire our family or are impressed by something they’ve seen me do like speak or write or lead or whatever.

But I’ll tell you, it may look like that plane is effortlessly flying through storms, but on the inside of that plane is fear and sadness and worry and uncertainty and, sometimes, a wee bit of panic.

I know we’re going to land safely. But it doesn’t make me clutch the armrests any less tightly.

I also know that sometimes, “it is the Lord who sends the thunderstorms” (Zechariah 10), and sometimes, “He stills the storm to a whisper… and [we] were glad when it grew calm, [because] he guided them to their desired haven.” (Psalm 107)

Photo courtesy of The Guardian

The Storms

June 2, 2015 by Gindi 1 Comment

We squinted at the small screen as the radar showed a long line of storms from San Angelo to Oklahoma City. Unfortunately, we were headed north on I-35 to visit my father in Oklahoma City.

We would have been on edge in any event given the deep red shades on the radar, but we’d only just gone through one of the most severe thunderstorms that week we had ever experienced in Houston. Swaths of the city were underwater and our neighborhood saw 11 inches of rain in six hours overnight. We were still picking up debris.

As we drove north from Dallas toward Oklahoma City, I monitored the storms inching toward the freeway and entertained the children as he drove at an ever escalating pace. My stomach turned flips as the storms moved ever closer. Just on the other side of the state line, I told him if we could make it to Ardmore within 30 minutes, we might avoid the main line of storms. As if to punctuate the importance of beating the thunderstorms, our phones alarmed with flash flood and thunderstorm warnings and the sky lit up with incoming lightning.

As my nerves jangled, I opened up the Bible app on my phone to remind myself of the most famous storm the disciples encountered. Mark 4 tells it like this,

That day, when evening came, he said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side.” Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”
He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.
He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

Oh ME of little faith. Imagining the disciples being overtaken by waves on a small boat gave me some perspective. It settled me. I began to pray. Dear Lord, please guard our car. Guard our family. Guard us as we approach this storm. Please help us make it through. Get us to the city without driving in the midst of that terrible line of thunderstorms. Send your powerful protection.

And we made it. The storms hit I-35 once we were north of them.

I prayed with heartfelt thanks for the safe arrival at my father’s house.

But then I paused. I recalled a passage from Undone I had read that afternoon on the ride up. The author tells of her and her family’s weeks of prayers as they awaited the verdict of whether her cancer had spread. The doctor called and the news was positive. She still had recovery ahead, but the cancer had not spread. She fell on her knees in thanks for the good news.

Until she received her doctor’s reply to her enthusiasm, Yes, God is good – I believe this even when we struggle to understand all of His purposes. She quickly sobered and remembered others who had received different news: Yes, God is good. It was easy for me to say it at that moment buoyed as I was with good test results. But would I still have celebrated the goodness of God with different results? Would I have testified to my confident, unwavering belief in Jesus had the test scan turned out differently.

Would I? I began to ask myself some questions: Would I have been grateful had we spent time in the center of the storm? Would my faith have reacted differently if our little family experienced flood waters rising, hail falling and wind blowing? Would God still be a good God who cares about us?

This is what I’m constantly learning when confronting storms: God is good. He’s good when He saves us from having to go through the storm. He’s still good when He stands with us IN the storm.

I don’t always understand where God is leading. Or why. I’ve stopped trying to understand with my limited field of vision. I will probably continue to pray to be delivered from the storms. But I will trust God is good and is fighting for me even in the storms.

And I know I will arrive safely at my Father’s house.