Reflections: “O courage, my soul … in the midst of life’s storms
Read: Psalm 124
Last evening in my community we had a terrible thunderstorm accompanied by torrential rains. I thought the storm would be brief—one of those sudden summer storms that quickly pass. This one did not. It continued for several hours into the night. It seemed it would never end.
This morning is different. I walked my dog, Buddy, along the wooded paths and it was almost indescribable. Everything seemed a brilliant green, the trees, grass and shrubs. The creeks were flowing rapidly and glistened as the morning sun broke through trees, here and there. I stopped on a bridge to look into the clear creek and suddenly I noticed the chirping of birds. I think they were performing for me! What a chorus!
There is nothing quite like a sunny morning following a storm. The challenge is to get through the storm!
When I was a boy, I was terribly afraid of summer storms. I spent summers with my grandparents on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, in a picturesque village along the Nanticoke River. Visiting my grandmother Sarah Ellen was such a treat. She doted on me as her oldest grandchild, and always made me feel so special.
My grandmother had an unusual practice, though it was perhaps characteristic of the community and not unusual except to her grandson. She respected and reverenced storms, while I feared them immensely.
When a storm occurred, all activity stopped in the house and everyone went to a common room, usually the rarely used parlor. If a storm arose during the night, everyone was aroused, went to the parlor and sat quietly in the dark.
I recall my grandmother praying, and singing or softly humming hymns. Scarcely audible. I could only see her shadowy figure. It was a frightening experience. We remained in the parlor until the storm had “passed over.” The challenge for me was getting through the storm!
Since those long ago days, I have learned about life’s storms. Most of us have known them. Those storms are different from thunderstorms, but also interrupt what often is an otherwise joy-filled life. They can be all-consuming, coming suddenly and without warning. Disappointment, broken relationships, undeserved attacks, unspeakable tragedy.
The challenge, again, is to somehow get through the storms. They do not last forever.
In my youth, when a storm had “passed over,” my grandmother would announce that we could return to our rooms. I learned from her what to do in the midst of a storm: Call upon Faith.
For her, perseverance came indisputably from Jesus. She would pray and sing the songs of hope and assurance. But she mostly trusted. She knew the storm would pass over. Storms do not last forever. People of Faith learn this valuable truth.
Charles Tindley, the popular Methodist preacher and hymn writer—himself from the Eastern Shore of Maryland—wrote a hymn titled “The Storm Is Passing Over.” I wonder if, as a boy, he had to sit up during the night as I did until the storm had “passed over.”
Here are the words to Tindley’s hymn: “O courage, my soul, and let us journey on, for tho’ the night is dark, it won’t be very long. O thanks be to God, the morning light appears, and the storm is passing over, Hallelujah!”
It is good to remember, in the face of life’s storms, that they will always pass over. The challenge is to get through them!
Bishop Woodie White
Read: Psalm 124
Last evening in my community we had a terrible thunderstorm accompanied by torrential rains. I thought the storm would be brief—one of those sudden summer storms that quickly pass. This one did not. It continued for several hours into the night. It seemed it would never end.
This morning is different. I walked my dog, Buddy, along the wooded paths and it was almost indescribable. Everything seemed a brilliant green, the trees, grass and shrubs. The creeks were flowing rapidly and glistened as the morning sun broke through trees, here and there. I stopped on a bridge to look into the clear creek and suddenly I noticed the chirping of birds. I think they were performing for me! What a chorus!
There is nothing quite like a sunny morning following a storm. The challenge is to get through the storm!
When I was a boy, I was terribly afraid of summer storms. I spent summers with my grandparents on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, in a picturesque village along the Nanticoke River. Visiting my grandmother Sarah Ellen was such a treat. She doted on me as her oldest grandchild, and always made me feel so special.
My grandmother had an unusual practice, though it was perhaps characteristic of the community and not unusual except to her grandson. She respected and reverenced storms, while I feared them immensely.
When a storm occurred, all activity stopped in the house and everyone went to a common room, usually the rarely used parlor. If a storm arose during the night, everyone was aroused, went to the parlor and sat quietly in the dark.
I recall my grandmother praying, and singing or softly humming hymns. Scarcely audible. I could only see her shadowy figure. It was a frightening experience. We remained in the parlor until the storm had “passed over.” The challenge for me was getting through the storm!
Since those long ago days, I have learned about life’s storms. Most of us have known them. Those storms are different from thunderstorms, but also interrupt what often is an otherwise joy-filled life. They can be all-consuming, coming suddenly and without warning. Disappointment, broken relationships, undeserved attacks, unspeakable tragedy.
The challenge, again, is to somehow get through the storms. They do not last forever.
In my youth, when a storm had “passed over,” my grandmother would announce that we could return to our rooms. I learned from her what to do in the midst of a storm: Call upon Faith.
For her, perseverance came indisputably from Jesus. She would pray and sing the songs of hope and assurance. But she mostly trusted. She knew the storm would pass over. Storms do not last forever. People of Faith learn this valuable truth.
Charles Tindley, the popular Methodist preacher and hymn writer—himself from the Eastern Shore of Maryland—wrote a hymn titled “The Storm Is Passing Over.” I wonder if, as a boy, he had to sit up during the night as I did until the storm had “passed over.”
Here are the words to Tindley’s hymn: “O courage, my soul, and let us journey on, for tho’ the night is dark, it won’t be very long. O thanks be to God, the morning light appears, and the storm is passing over, Hallelujah!”
It is good to remember, in the face of life’s storms, that they will always pass over. The challenge is to get through them!
Bishop Woodie White
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