Hurricane Sandy is getting ready to ramrod her way into the east coast, and I am spending a fitful evening praying for family, friends, and everyone in her path. I keep trying to visualize the span of the storm on the tracking radars as a wing of protection rather than a wall of destruction. I’ve been praying as much of Psalm 91 as I can remember over and over; it’s coming out a mess, I know, but thankfully, God listens to the heart and doesn’t take off points for shoddy memorization.
All this sound and fury over the impending storm paradoxically keeps bringing to my mind calmness and stillness. I think of the idiomatic calm before the storm, and the calmness in the eye of the storm, and Jesus calming the storm-tossed waters. Calm, calm, calm. The word keeps rolling like a steady tide in my mind and heart.
Be still and know.
Still. Calm. Quiet.
I’m sinking into the deep, rich, soul-soothing whisper of these words tonight. Some of the greatest miracles have been born in the quietest moments.
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” — Psalm 46:10