The Wind
"Peace, be still." Mark 4:39
I lie awake. The wind howls, sounding much like a pack of coyotes on a cold winter's night. It rattles the chimney caps, angry at the house that stands in its way. In the morning, the yard will be littered with sticks and branches that were not strong enough to withstand its power.
I find myself fretting about the stacks of paperwork sitting on my desk. I wonder if I will ever get caught up. The house is a wreck, and I haven't really felt good for several days.
The wind howls.
Oddly enough, the chimes on the porch are mostly silent. They are sheltered and still. But occasionally, a small breath of wind catches them. Their music plays softly and gently. I can barely hear them over the wind.
I am reminded that even in the midst of a storm, Jesus speaks. Though I may struggle at times to hear his voice, it is still there. His voice speaks softly and gently in my ear, "Peace, be still."
And I sleep.
I lie awake. The wind howls, sounding much like a pack of coyotes on a cold winter's night. It rattles the chimney caps, angry at the house that stands in its way. In the morning, the yard will be littered with sticks and branches that were not strong enough to withstand its power.
I find myself fretting about the stacks of paperwork sitting on my desk. I wonder if I will ever get caught up. The house is a wreck, and I haven't really felt good for several days.
The wind howls.
Oddly enough, the chimes on the porch are mostly silent. They are sheltered and still. But occasionally, a small breath of wind catches them. Their music plays softly and gently. I can barely hear them over the wind.
I am reminded that even in the midst of a storm, Jesus speaks. Though I may struggle at times to hear his voice, it is still there. His voice speaks softly and gently in my ear, "Peace, be still."
And I sleep.
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