Through it all, through it all my eyes are on You;
Through it all, through it all it is well.
Through it all, through it all my eyes are on You,
And it is well ... with me. (c) Kristene DiMarco, Bethel Music
I just finished reading an amazing article. It's about photographs taken from INSIDE THE EYE of Hurricane Dorian while it was still a Category 2 Hurricane off the coast of the United States.
It's full of birds. All kinds of birds! Flying, sitting in the still water if they are able to swim, resting on anything that floats if they can't swim, they stay in the eye of the storm until it makes landfall, where they stay. If ships are in the eye of the storm, they rest on the ship.
Amazing.
The analogy is plain between this image and the storms of life, so I won't belabour it here. But the mental picture of the eye of the storm being calm and a refuge for those caught in it ... is a powerful one. I can think of several incidents, not only in my life but in those of others, where this is the reality: we have stayed in the midst of turbulent circumstances and yet there has been an inner calm, a 'peace that surpasses all understanding' (Phil 4:7), that has steadied us and been a refuge for us. It's not that we are unaffected by the storm at all, it's just that our focus has been on the One who is the Centre of all things.
I've experienced a real hurricane before. Hurricane Juan (Sept. 29, 2003) visited our province and caused all kinds of damage to property, shoreline, and power lines. We had not been listening to or watching the news for the previous few days, and I had been on vacation so away from the office grapevine, so we were totally unprepared. During the fury of the storm that morning, my husband and I felt we had to go outside because water was pouring over the edges of our rain gutters.
We were soaked to the skin within two seconds, and we got the ladder out anyway. I held the extension ladder while hubby went up and cleared out the debris from the gutters, a job that we have since learned must be done in mid-summer. The rain and wind were blinding; the wind itself ripped our breath away from us, and we had to keep our chins tucked down to our chests to be able to breathe. And we were only out there for about five minutes. We lost three of our eleven shade trees in that storm.
In hindsight, it was kind of crazy of us to venture outside. But we did experience the strength of a Category 1 hurricane - as least as much as we ever want to (if we wanted to, which I doubt). I'll never forget it.
Yet, through it all, we were protected. We discovered a large, one-foot-in-diameter tree limb suspended in the maple tree that was right next to our house. It had been ripped off one of our other trees and became a projectile that was hurtling right at our picture window. And the maple tree's limbs caught it and didn't allow it to travel further. A mini-tornado (common in hurricanes, I've been told) landed on one of our other large shade trees (60 feet tall) and twisted it at the trunk as if it was a matchstick, slamming it onto the lawn. That tree was about 25 feet from our front door. When it hit the ground, it hit at an angle about 60 degrees to the house, so it missed us completely, still tethered by a portion of its own trunk to the ground.
As I ponder this event, I am overwhelmed by a sense of divine protection - even in our ignorance - during Juan's devastating visit. And as Hurricane Dorian nears our province later today, I am trusting in God's protection for us and our home and property.
And for the storms of our lives and circumstances, I am trusting that same kind of protection in the emotional and spiritual sense. I know we are in the Centre.
So it's all good. Through it all, it is well ... with me. With us.
He is here in the midst.
Through it all, through it all it is well.
Through it all, through it all my eyes are on You,
And it is well ... with me. (c) Kristene DiMarco, Bethel Music
I just finished reading an amazing article. It's about photographs taken from INSIDE THE EYE of Hurricane Dorian while it was still a Category 2 Hurricane off the coast of the United States.
It's full of birds. All kinds of birds! Flying, sitting in the still water if they are able to swim, resting on anything that floats if they can't swim, they stay in the eye of the storm until it makes landfall, where they stay. If ships are in the eye of the storm, they rest on the ship.
Amazing.
 |
| This is a photo of Tropical Cyclone Catarina, clearly showing the eye of the storm, courtesy of a contributor to Pixabay.com |
I've experienced a real hurricane before. Hurricane Juan (Sept. 29, 2003) visited our province and caused all kinds of damage to property, shoreline, and power lines. We had not been listening to or watching the news for the previous few days, and I had been on vacation so away from the office grapevine, so we were totally unprepared. During the fury of the storm that morning, my husband and I felt we had to go outside because water was pouring over the edges of our rain gutters.
We were soaked to the skin within two seconds, and we got the ladder out anyway. I held the extension ladder while hubby went up and cleared out the debris from the gutters, a job that we have since learned must be done in mid-summer. The rain and wind were blinding; the wind itself ripped our breath away from us, and we had to keep our chins tucked down to our chests to be able to breathe. And we were only out there for about five minutes. We lost three of our eleven shade trees in that storm.
In hindsight, it was kind of crazy of us to venture outside. But we did experience the strength of a Category 1 hurricane - as least as much as we ever want to (if we wanted to, which I doubt). I'll never forget it.
Yet, through it all, we were protected. We discovered a large, one-foot-in-diameter tree limb suspended in the maple tree that was right next to our house. It had been ripped off one of our other trees and became a projectile that was hurtling right at our picture window. And the maple tree's limbs caught it and didn't allow it to travel further. A mini-tornado (common in hurricanes, I've been told) landed on one of our other large shade trees (60 feet tall) and twisted it at the trunk as if it was a matchstick, slamming it onto the lawn. That tree was about 25 feet from our front door. When it hit the ground, it hit at an angle about 60 degrees to the house, so it missed us completely, still tethered by a portion of its own trunk to the ground.
As I ponder this event, I am overwhelmed by a sense of divine protection - even in our ignorance - during Juan's devastating visit. And as Hurricane Dorian nears our province later today, I am trusting in God's protection for us and our home and property.
And for the storms of our lives and circumstances, I am trusting that same kind of protection in the emotional and spiritual sense. I know we are in the Centre.
So it's all good. Through it all, it is well ... with me. With us.
He is here in the midst.
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