By Phil
Wood
"Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them
into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came
down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it
did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears
these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man
who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the
winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash."
When
Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were amazed at his teaching,
because he taught as one who had authority, and not as their teachers of the
law.
Matthew 7:24-29
I've been staring out
the window a lot lately, reverting back to a practice from my childhood when my
mom would make me stay in the house because it was raining, or I had a cold, or
I'd been bad. Our sofa was set along the wall under the front window, so I
would jump up on my knees, with my belly against the back of the sofa, and
stare out the window for what seemed like hours.
There wasn't much to
look at out there, just the houses across the street in a somewhat dreary,
inner-city Detroit neighborhood made even grayer by the ever-present clouds and
rain. But there was a deep longing in my heart.
Although the view is
different now, the longing remains. Yet I have come to realize that, even as I
gaze out the window, what I'm longing for isn't really out there somewhere.
It's in here.
And by here I don't mean
here inside our warm, cozy house where I feel so safe and sheltered from the
storm. Picture me holding my fist against my chest. What I'm looking for is in here.
In here, where God is.
In here is my true
shelter in place. This is where I'm safest from the driving rain, the rising
streams, the winds that blow and beat against my house, and the evil virus that
prowls around outside. This house is built on the rock.
I like to think that our
earthly home, this physical structure that Marianne and I have shared now for
34 years, and where we raised our wonderful son, is also built on a rock. But
it's not immune to disaster. It's not impervious to viruses. I still stare out
the window longing for something else.
The only shelter that
truly keeps anyone safe is the one that's built on Christ. And it's not made
out of wood, or stone or concrete or steel.
A couple weeks ago,
there was a blizzard that, overnight, covered our region with about ten inches
of heavy, wet snow. The homeless people in Arvada, who normally come to our
son's church for shelter at times like this, had to be turned away because of
the corona virus and the need to keep the volunteers and congregation safe. Ten
heartbroken volunteers, spaced six feet apart, had to distribute blankets and
food, trust God, and turn people back out into the storm.
The saving grace was
knowing that, in God's hands, with Christ as their rock, those people would be
alright.
A prayer.
Lord Jesus, I long to get back out into the world,
go where I want to go, do what I want to do, be with friends and family. But we
are called to shelter in place. And I can't think of a safer place to shelter
than "in here." Thank you, Lord.
Lord Jesus, help me remember that my deepest
longing is really for you. I long to lie down in green pastures and walk beside
quiet waters with you. Only here do I lack nothing. Only here do I find
restoration for my soul. Only here do I fear no evil. Because you are here.
Thank you, Lord.
Lord Jesus, at a time when no man-made shelter is
totally safe, and even a structure we call God's house cannot provide refuge,
may we all find shelter in you.
Amen