When the Foundation Crumbles...

It's so quiet I can hear the clock ticking from across the room.

My fingers seem reluctant to transfer my thoughts onto the computer screen, pausing as if to say, "This week has taken a lot out of us as well." The cat, who usually is outside, jumps up on the couch to rub her head against my hand, then wanders through the house to investigate what is usually off limits to her.

I'm by myself because my wife has driven hundreds of miles to be with her mother who was admitted to the intensive care unit in a hospital near her home. The call tonight let me know that her mom is doing a little better, but still on the ventilator. Still needing our prayers.

Sitting here, I try to count the negative things that have happened this week, but I soon run out of fingers. Some things that happened were easier to shrug off - other things unexpectedly destroyed me. Even thought I tried to keep a smile on my face, the nights have been hard, and sleep has been rare.

I actually caught myself feeling like Elijah must have felt when he was running from Jezebel. I Kings 19:10, last part says, "I alone am left, and they seek to take my life." Maybe it wasn't my physical life, but some were out to destroy what I felt I had built up over the past 22 years, and I was powerless to stop them. People close to me - ones I had relied on for support - announced that they were leaving. Friends I had trusted failed me, and my own failures rushed in to take a prominent place in my thoughts.

I pick up my Bible and somehow find my way to I Peter. My eyes wander over the verses, picking out phrases here and there that give me such courage: "For to this you were called, because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that you should follow His steps...." (I Peter 2:21) "Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened to you; but rejoice...." (I Peter 4:12,13) "Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you." (I Peter 5:7)

My thoughts go back to Elijah and what happened to him after he was sure he was going to die. He experienced a great and mighty wind that "tore into the mountain," but God was not in the wind. The earth shook, throwing Elijah onto the ground, but the Lord was not in the earthquake either. Then the mountain was on fire, and Elijah sought shelter from the heat, but God could not be found in the fire.

And then it was quiet. The contrast between what was before and what Elijah was now experiencing was as different as night is from day. I imagine that Elijah eased himself down onto the ground, leaned his back against a tree, and felt the pent-up stress slowly leave his body. And only then did he hear the still small voice.

The voice said, "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? Why, my life is destroyed - my foundation crumbled. Everything that I have worked for is gone. I am the only one left who even cares about You and Your covenant!"

I have to stop reading, because I realize that God is speaking to me. This week may have felt like a lashing wind, an earthquake, and a devouring flame, but dwelling on those things - hanging around those events and allowing them to control me - does not fit into God's plan for me. While I am wallowing in the midst of my troubles, God is asking, "What are you doing here?"

I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. I pick up the Word of God and again let my eyes scan the words that have blessed me so many times: "...be of good cheer, I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)

The healing has begun. The quietness of the evening embraces me. I can hear the clock ticking again.

God bless you abundantly!