As we settled in our seats for the flight to Port-a-Prince
from Miami, many of us were checking our phones one last time. Once in Haiti,
what phone service we had would be very expensive to use. Shelly, sitting a row
ahead of me, turned to tell me and said with phone in hand, “Just saw a weather
report for Haiti. They’re expecting a tropical storm in the next few days.” Having
never been to Haiti and having never experienced a tropical storm, I wondered what
it was going to be like experiencing two very intense things on the same
trip.
As we arrived and settled into the home of our host, the
concern of this impending storm came into our conversation. We had just driven
two hours from the airport in Port-a-Prince to St. Marc. The drive was visually intense. We saw
thousands of tents still being used as homes and shelters from the devastating
earthquake. We drove through smaller villages plagued with poverty and
overcrowding. And, we saw the beauty of an incredible Caribbean island as the
sun set over the ocean and the mountains. Our hearts were tugged and our minds
were churning just from the drive to our host’s home. Then we remembered… there’s a storm coming,
right?
Marcel, a Haitian pastor and our host, had heard about the
storm but he didn’t seem overly concerned about it. Either he didn’t want us
freaking out, he didn’t know much about what the storm was forecasted to do, or
he was just used to big storms blowing in and out. He assured us that if and
when the storm comes, we would be safe. We went to bed relieved and ready to
tackle the days to come. Over the next couple of days, occasionally someone
would ask about the storm. Marcel would say that it’s coming but didn’t offer
any details. Apparently, Haitians aren’t as obsessed with the Weather Channel
as Americans are. We focused on our project and left the weather report to
Marcel to figure out.
We had arrived on a Tuesday and on Friday afternoon, Marcel
interrupted our work and said, “Pack up your things. The storm is coming soon.
We’re heading back to the house.” We did as instructed, loaded up with a sense
of urgency and concerned excitement for what the night would bring. When we got
back to Marcel’s, we spent a few minutes putting some things usually left
outside in a secure place. But most of the evening was fairly routine. We ate
dinner, played cards, and enjoyed each other’s company. As I went to bed that night, I fully expected
to be awaken by wind, rain, and thunder. I wondered if we would have a rough,
sleepless night as this storm fell over us. But, the night passed and I woke to
the typical morning sounds of goats and chickens, truck horns, and people going
about their business. I found Marcel was up working on breakfast and I had to
ask, “Marcel, what’s up with the storm? Is it still coming?” He laughed as he
said, “Good news for us! Bad news for Cuba! We dodged a bullet.”
It wasn’t until I returned home the next week that I learned
what really happened with this storm.
Friends and family members had been tracking that storm all week. Pleas
for prayer were all over e-mail and Facebook. This was expected it to be a
biggy—dumping up to 20 inches of rain on our region. St. Marc is a town built on the base of a
mountain, so mudslides were predicted to be a huge problem. So what happened to
this big, nasty storm? Well, as the storm hit the mountains guarding our
region, it split in half, weakening and changing direction. St. Marc stayed dry
and safe. Yeah… we dodged a bullet. Possible
disaster was somehow averted.
In our study in the Psalms this summer, it’s evident to me
that David understood to expect storms and struggles in life. David seems to be
constantly asking God for help in times of trouble and he beautifully expresses
his gratitude and praise to God when God relieves him from his situation. What
I love about David is that he also sees God’s protection from real danger that
never materializes—like the impending storm that never arrives.
So what are some storms that never arrive? What does God
spare and protect us from? The easy ones
to recognize are the close calls with our cars on the road. “Wow, if that truck
wouldn’t have stopped! That would have
been bad.” The other day, I found a two-inch burn mark on my deck from a
charcoal briquette that got loose from my lighting canister. What could have
happened with that unattended smoldering coal on my wood deck? Why didn’t my
house burn down?
But, there’s a whole other category of things I feel God has
graciously spared me from disaster. These are storms that I have the ability to
create. It’s storm damage that can be produced from angry words, a lustful
heart, an addictive tendency, a selfish decision, or self-medication. When I’m
really honest with myself, I recognize my potential for producing real problems
on my own can could become devastating.
This week, meditate on Psalm 124. Listen as David gives God credit for his
protection from impeding disastrous storms.
Praise the Lord,
who did not let their teeth tear us apart!
We escaped like a bird from a hunter’s trap.
The trap is broken, and we are free!
Our help is from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth. Psalm 124.6-8
who did not let their teeth tear us apart!
We escaped like a bird from a hunter’s trap.
The trap is broken, and we are free!
Our help is from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth. Psalm 124.6-8
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