Ominous, black-stained clouds crept over the mountain ridge. Trees bowed to the ground under the influence of fierce winds as raindrops like bullets shot from the sky. Long, slender fingers of electricity lit up the darkened heavens. One touched the hill across the street with an explosion of intense light. I screamed and quickly ran from the window as my home shuttered against the thunderous boom.
But just as quickly as the midday became midnight, and gentle breeze became fierce winds, the storm moved on.
A hush settled over the mountain hollar. Sunlight glistened in drops of crystals blanketing the grass. A cool, gentle breeze blew over the land.
And after the hush came a song.
A chorus of blended voices lifted from the tree limbs and echoed across the mountainside, filling the heavens with song. It began softly, one bird at a time, then built into a melody strong and sure.
A chorus of praise on the heels of the storm.
It came naturally — as natural as their wings lift them up to fly. It came with ease — as easy as their color brightens a lonely day.
And it came with loveliness — as lovely as the warm sunshine illuminating the fuchsia of petunias growing beneath the tree.
A chorus of praise. Natural. Easy. Lovely.
I wonder what the birds were thinking during the storm. Were they sitting still beneath the canopy of limbs, knowing the storm would pass, knowing their Creator God would keep them safe, resting in the knowledge that a song was bursting within and nothing — no thing — could hold it back?
Were they? Possibly. Probably.
Is that how I respond to a storm in my life? When forces of evil collide with hosts of angels placed in charge of me, do I rest in the knowledge that my Father God will keep me safe – that He will give me strength to endure the trial?
He has given me the gift of praise, but will I choose to release it? I hope so.
Praise. What a glorious gift the Father has given us.
And even when we can’t praise Him for our circumstances, we can always praise Him for who He is. He is our Redeemer and Friend. He is our Refuge, our Strength. He, Himself, is our peace … peace in the storm.
Will you join me in a chorus of spontaneous, joyful praise to the Father? I’m quite sure the cool, gentle breeze of His Presence will follow.
