The Breaking of the Storm

  “And there arose a great storm” Mark 4:37

Some of the storms of life come suddenly: a great sorrow, a bitter disappointment, a crushing defeat. Some come slowly. They appear upon the ragged edges of the horizon no larger than a man’s hand, but, trouble that seems so insignificant spreads until it covers the sky and overwhelms us.storm_marquee

Yet it is in the storm that God equips us for service. When God wants an oak He plants it on the moor where the storms will shake it and the rains will beat down upon it, and it is in the midnight battle with elements that the oak wins its rugged fibre and becomes the king of the forest.

When God wants to make a man He puts him into some storm. The history of manhood is always rough and rugged. No man is made until he has been out into the surge of the storm and found the sublime fulfillment of the prayer: “O God, take me, break me, make me.”

A Frenchman has painted a picture of universal genius. There stand orators, philosophers and martyrs, all who have achieved pre-eminence in any phase of life; the remarkable fact about the picture is this: Every man who is pre-eminent for his ability was first pre-eminent for suffering. In the foreground stands that figure of the man who was denied the promised land, Moses. Beside him is another, feeling his way–blind Homer. Milton is there, blind and heart-broken. Now comes the form of one who towers above them all. What is His characteristic? His Face is marred more than any man’s. The artist might have written under that great picture, “The Storm.”

The beauties of nature come after the storm. The rugged beauty of the mountain is born in a storm, and the heroes of life are the storm-swept and the battle-scarred.

You have been in the storms and swept by the blasts. Have they left you broken, weary, beaten in the valley, or have they lifted you to the sunlit summits of a richer, deeper, more abiding manhood and womanhood? Have they left you with more sympathy with the storm-swept and the battle-scarred? –Selected

The wind that blows can never kill
The tree God plants;
It bloweth east, it bloweth west,
The tender leaves have little rest,
But any wind that blows is best.
The tree that God plants
Strikes deeper root, grows higher still,
Spreads greater boughs, for God’s good will
Meets all its wants.

There is no storm hath power to blast
The tree God knows;images12MGYEDZ
No thunderbolt, nor beating rain,
Nor lightning flash, nor hurricane;
When they are spent, it doth remain,
The tree God knows,
Through every tempest standeth fast,
And from its first day to its last
Still fairer grows. –Selected

Mrs. Charles E. Cowman

Marriane Bernard

 

Prayer:

Dear Lord,  I pray that You make your promise and Your hope real to those who are struggling in a painful circumstance.  Help them to know that You are with them no matter how weary they become.  Strengthen them in Your will and give them Your peace to hold onto the truth.  Amen

 

 

Photos courtesy of : Google

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God’s Promise

He promised he would always be there,
To bring us through each trial,
That each dark and heavy circumstanceimagesU22RDQLA
Would only last awhile.
He promised that he’d always make it
Work out for our good,
To all his children who believe and
Trust Him, as they should.

The rain falls on the just and unjust
His Holy Word declares,
And that he knows right from the start,
All those who need his care.
He’ll never fail, nor will he forsake
All those who trust his Word.
He promised that he’d always be there
A promise he’ll make good.

Gertrude Jefferies

Love’s Creation

Sometimes we often talk about
All things that God has made.untitled
But something is baffling me,
And that I must not evade.

It’s all ’bout love’s creation,
When was it first born?
I’ve not found a single word
Explaining how it was formed.

Maybe it happened when God
Spread out the skies above
Placing each and every star
In the moonlit heav’ns, above?

Could it have happened from
Adam’s unification with Eve,
When they were told to multiply
And children were conceived?

Or maybe it happened when
Salvation had its part
When we accepted Christ
Into our unbelieving heart.

Perhaps it could’ve been
When God saved Noah and his kin
Or even when Lot was spared,
Maybe it happened then.

Or could it have began
When God preferred Abel to Cain?
Possibly, it was when he said
He’d ne’er flood the world again.

My mind cannot contemplate
Just where love was found
I only know within my heart
Is where it grows and abounds!

Maybe love was given at birth
Or came from a simple embryo
Where was its first beginning
I guess I’ll never know.

Maybe it happened one day
While I was fast asleep
When angels came and whispered,
A sweet love song at my feet.

Surely there must have been
An important place and time
For God’s creation of love
For it must be born sometime.

If there was a designated place
Where love had come to be
I’d take children by the hand
And say, come with me and see.

I’d show them the very place
Where love got its first start.
I’d give the gift from heaven
From God’s own precious heart.

Then maybe they’d embrace love
And never want to walk away
From the love that was created
In their longing hearts that day.

For some people search forever
But love cannot e’er be found
Tho’ they search hither and yon’
Love does not make a sound.

Someone please help me give
The gift of love’s creation.
Speak to them right now!
They need an explanation!

Help them find the precise
Moment and the time.
So love can find its way
Into their heart sometime!

By Patricia Joan Polhans

My(Our)Prayer

Please be there to help me,
For I cannot stand alone.
Please be there to guide me,
I can’t make it on my own.s
Please be there to lift me,
If I should fall by the way.
Please be there to give me
The right words to speak today.

Let me care for my brothers,
The ones who are down and out,
Putting love into action
Daring to be talked about.
Lifting someone’s burden,
Telling them ‘Jesus cares’
Give me strength and help me
To dry somebody’s tears.

Someone was there for me,
When my life was in a mess,
Someone said, Jesus loved me,
And wanted me to find rest.
Now may I pass the message
To someone else in need,
Obeying His commandment,
By my words and my deeds.

 

Gertrude Jefferies

 

My(Our) Hiding Place

hiding-place

 

Lord, You are my hiding place,
my harbor in any storm . . .
You are the only one I know
who will keep me from all harm.

You are my safe haven,
my retreat when I am weary
You are the only one I know
who understands when I’m teary.

You are my soul’s refuge,
my sanctuary when I need a break
You are the only one I know
who grasps why my heart aches.

You are my hideaway,
my shelter when I need peace
You are the only one I know
who’s love for me will never cease.

Lord, You are my hiding place,
my port into which I sail . . .
You are the only one I know
who will never disappoint or fail.

Psalm 32:7
King James Version

“Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt
preserve me from trouble; thou shalt
compass me about with songs of
deliverance. Selah.”

 

Debra Ann Belka

These Humble Words

kristamcgeebooks

My Lord and Savior, hear my heart –
a heart that can’t ignore,
Your love that chased me all my life
and proved to be much more…

Much more than rain drops from above
that fall from all around,
collecting in the ponds and lakes
and oceans that abound.

Much more than luscious meadows, green
where horses romp and play
much more than cool, clear bubbling brooks
where little ponies lay.

Much more than all the honey found
from bees that roam the hive,
much more than flowers from the plant
with petals bright, alive!

Much more than colors on the trees
in autumn’s many hue,
of golden yellow, red and orange –
much more than rainbows too.

Much more than all the mountain peaks
that touch vast skies of blue
much more than questions I have asked
in prayers I’ve sent to You.

Much more than countless blessings from
Your miracles galore.
Much more than all my faithfulness.
But yet, You send me more.

Much more love that I waste on
such silly, selfish stuff.
Yet still, You send me greater love.
I can’t love You enough.

Now may these humble words be passed
to everyone You touch,
so they, too, will have hearts to say,
“I love You very much.”

Louis Gander

Photo courtesy of Google via Krista McGhee

Conversion

I have lived this life as the skeptic lives it;
I have said the sweetness was less than the gall;
Praising, nor cursing, the Hand that gives it,
I have drifted aimlessly through it all.
I have scoffed at the tale of a so-called heaven;
I have laughed at the thought of a Supreme Friend;
I have said that it only to man was given
To live, to endure; and to die was the end.

But I know that a good God reigneth,
Generous-hearted and kind and true;
Since unto a worm like me he deigneth
To send so royal a gift as you.
Bright as a star you gleam on my bosom,
Sweet as a rose that the wild bee sips;
And I know, my own, my beautiful blossom,
That none but a God could mould such lips.

And I believe, in the fullest measure
That ever a strong man’s heart could hold,
In all the tales of heavenly pleasure
By poets sung or by prophets told;
For in the joy of your shy, sweet kisses,
Your pulsing touch and your languid sigh
I am filled and thrilled with better blisses
Than ever were claimed for souls on high.

And now I have faith in all the stories
Told of the beauties of unseen lands;
Of royal splendors and marvelous glories
Of the golden city not made with hands
For the silken beauty of falling tresses,
Of lips all dewy and cheeks aglow,
With–what the mind in a half trance guesses
Of the twin perfection of drifts of snow;

Of limbs like marble, of thigh and shoulder
Carved like a statue in high relief–
These, as the eyes and the thoughts grow bolder,
Leave no room for an unbelief.
So my lady, my queen most royal,
My skepticism has passed away;
If you are true to me, true and loyal,
I will believe till the Judgment-day.       – Ella Wheeler Wilcox