Magnifying the Song

The wind howls through the winter-bare trees on an unusually warm February night.  Rockers creak on the old wood as little girls nervously push back on the balls of their feet, trying to be excited like mama but really a bit afraid.  The forecaster barks warnings, impending danger from the East and my heart oddly leaps.

I love thunderstorms.

The tall trees sway and whisper of its coming.  My littlest girl starts banging chairs impatiently and I advise her to relax, to listen.   Listen to the wind and hear the beautiful song being sung.  Feel the power contained in the roar and don't rush it.  Just sit back, close your eyes and listen, sweet girl.  Thunderstorms are powerful.  If you listen, you will hear it.  Just be still.

Just be still.

Creation declares the glory of God.  Whether in the clear blue of summer sky, the majesty of snow-capped mountains, or in the menacing arrival of a thunderstorm God is proclaimed.  Storms like this make me feel like the throne room of God has descended to hover near.

  "From the throne came flashes of lightning and rumbles and peals of thunder..."  Rev. 4:5

"Is that rain?" asks my middle girl.  The last stubborn leaves break loose in the gust of wind and hit the ground.  I can smell the rain on the wind.  

"Not yet."

She loses patience and skips into the house.

Suddenly I am alone on the porch and I hear Him whisper to my heart.  I can almost hear the angels crying, "Holy, holy, holy."  He is near.  

Such power and majesty is displayed by our God.  Often we hide in fear, running for shelter and worrying about the safety of those we love.  Often we ask Him to show Himself in the midst of our suffering, then shy away when He does just that because sometimes He shows Himself in ways that do not make sense. 

Sometimes He allows things to get worse before they get better in order to open our ears fully to what He is saying.  

He brings us to the point of desperation where we are forced to stop because we have nothing more we can do.  We are brought to our knees and can only be still before Him.  But then...

Stillness magnifies the natural, like a phonograph pumping music from a scratchy record into a grand ballroom.  The record spins but the horn never moves.  It hovers at the point of contact, picking up the vibrations in the needle and magnifying them.  When we are still before the Lord, stopping in the midst of crazy and choosing to listen, we become like that horn that is so simple yet so vital to the performance of the machine.  We tune our ear to the One thing as the world spins wildly around us, and He calls forth the beautiful through us and puts it on display.   Focused listening chooses to drown out the noise and magnify the music.

Collection of John Lampert-Hopkins

If you are in the path of a storm, stop for a moment and listen.  In the midst of the swirling chaos there is likely a song.  He is near.  Always near.  He wants to sing to you, over you, and through you.  He wants you in the place where you have stopped chasing and learned to trust Him to create the song.  His yoke is easy.  His burden is light.  

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."  (Matt. 11:28)

He doesn't say he "might" give you rest.  He doesn't say he will think about it.  He certainly doesn't say He'd like to but, "Sorry, I'm all out of rest today. " He will.  He WILL.

He WILL give you rest.