The Storm

Sunday night, November 20. I am ministering in the city of Oran, very near the Bolivian border. Just as people were gathering for the service, a powerful storm of lightning, thunder and a virtual cloudburst hit us. Families, who were walking to church, came running in... soaked to the skin. Some were mothers with little babies in their arms. Some were families of three or four riding through the mud on little motorcycles. I was surprised that in spite of this driving rain the church filled up clear to the back rows.

The pounding sound of rain on the metal roof was deafening. The audio system was a good one, but no match for the roar on the roof.

I called the children forward and tried to do something with Perfume and Felipe, but the storm pounded so hard on the roof that Felipe had to yell to even be heard through the speakers. His act was obviously much less effective than usual.

I was preparing to read Acts 20:24 as a text to minister when the lights went out and the sound system with them. Now in the dark all we could hear was the roar of the pounding rain on the roof. Within 5 minutes or so they got the church's emergency generator going and we had sound and lights again. I started to preach and in another 5 or ten minutes the city electricity came back on… so the generator had to be turned off… and again we were plunged into darkness with only the roar of the rain until the system could be restored and the sound turned back on. Still I had to yell through the sound system to be understood and even then I’m not sure my voice effectively reached the back rows.

The whole evening service a struggle. Like the disciples in the storm, Pastors Pancho and Susana Farias and I were pulling at the oars with all our might.

Finally as I was closing my message the rain let up some and the distractions lessened allowing for a great altar time. Almost everyone was on their knees seeking God, many until after 11 PM.

My regular reading through the Bible this Monday morning, took me to Matt 8:23-27. It’s the story of a swamped and sinking little boat with Jesus calmly asleep in the stern. Was that storm related to the powers of evil? Was the devil trying to drown Jesus? Or was the Father in heaven saying, “These boys are sailors. They’re used to this lake. These fishermen have been sailing it most of their lives. Crank it up a notch… more wind… higher waves… swamp that little boat until these sailors realize that it is out of their control… until they have no choice but to call upon their Master.” Maybe I am too self-sufficient. Maybe God is cranking it up a notch so that I’ll fall again at the feet of my Master and admit my helplessness.

Ironically the theme of my message last night was “God is with us and He never makes mistakes”.

This morning I wrote this little prayer: Father, You are in control of the wind and the rain. Perhaps I am not supposed to question the “Who done it?” and the “Why'd they do it?”, but to ride out the storms of life with total faith in You… for I am not alone… I am not alone! Hallelujah! I am not alone in this “boat of ministry”. You, Jesus, Creator of the sea, the waves, the wind and the rain… You are in the “boat of life” with me. Immanuel, God is with me! My little insignificant craft may be tossed about on the sea of life’s storms, but the Master of it all is resting in the stern… calmly at peace and in full control of every circumstance. Thank you, Jesus.

Your missionary with muddy shoes.

Ralph