House on the Rock

I’ve always thought it’s a beautiful thing, the way you can sense a storm on the horizon. The air has a mysterious chill against the backdrop of a yellow-grey sky and leaves turn their bellies heavenward in a display of silvery-green glory. It’s a providential warning, time to batten down the hatches and prepare for the downpour. 

It was late April when The Gates of Splendor was left on my doorstep by an Amazon delivery man. I was enamored by the story of five young missionaries and their wives who so desperately wanted people to hear the gospel that they were willing to die for its cause. I remember reading this quote by Elisabeth Elliot, reflecting on the week where her husband was murdered in the jungles of Ecuador:

 “The other wives and I talked together one night about the possibility of becoming widows. What would we do? God gave us peace of heart, and confidence that whatever might happen, His Word would hold. We knew that ‘when He Putteth forth His sheep, He goeth before them.’ God’s leading was unmistakable up to this point.”

This stirred something in me. A confidence, I think, that God provides peace in every circumstance. An example to follow in the midst of extreme sorrow. An unwavering faith that overcomes the darkest of nights. I remember thinking how much I loved her eternal mindset, how I hoped I would maintain such faith when faced with fiery trials. 

I wondered, simultaneously, if this reading was preparing me for something. I know an easy life is not promised, and I know that a sure curse of the fall is suffering. It almost felt like the chill before a storm. I wondered what was looming on the horizon. 

Sure enough, August 8th brought the early hints of a hurricane — the metaphorical storm clouds that would come to upheave all of life as we knew it. Mom — my best friend, confidant, role model, and mentor — was transported to the ER for shortness of breath. I knew she had been battling a cough, but this was surprising. 

Cue the impending feeling of a hurricane. I just knew, deep down in my spirit, that we were heading toward bad news. The chill was persistent, the so-to-speak leaves overturned. We drove to the hospital, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. 

And sure enough, the worst was realized in full. I still think it’s beautiful how nature gives you the sense of storms, but I think it’s even more beautiful how God gives you feelings of peace as you prepare to have your world rocked. There’s no other way to say it: we had peace. And the storm hit for sure. Cancer. Multiple spots. Not sure how bad or where it started. Not even sure what type. But cancer, it was confirmed. 

The grief was unimaginable. We have never cried so much. Tears of pain, fear, sorrow, frustration, anxiety, and yet also joy, peace, comfort, hope. A sure and secure eternity because of Christ. The promise of future glory. Desperately seeking shelter as the storm raged in our midst. 

I’ll write more on each of those moments in many posts to come, but as we walked into the parking lot, I thought about that quote by Elisabeth Elliott. 

God gave us peace of heart, and confidence that whatever might happen, His word will hold. He has put us forth as desperate, wandering sheep, trying to put one foot in front of the other as the world crumbles around us, and yet He is before us. His love is great. His promises are true. Our help comes from the Maker of Heaven and Earth. 

We felt it coming, we’re watching it grow. There’s no turning back — 

into the storm we go.