Movement

The sound of air moving can bring both the feeling of paralyzing fear as well as inexpressible joy. If you think about it people who live in states where tornado's reign as the number one cause of unexpected deaths the sound of air rushing around them in a furious, uneasy pattern brings the fear of what is to come. Questions like, "Will I find shelter in time? How long will it last? Do I have enough provision to last me awhile? Who do I need to take with me down into the shelter?" And I am sure many more questions like this are asked at such a time of desperation. However, to one who stands over someone who has just been pulled from the icy waters of the ocean prays that they will hear the sound of rushing air. The sound of a wife, daughter, husband, child, suck in the ever expectant and yet so unexpected gasp to hang on to life. In both cases it is the movement of air, which brings an outcome. So this is my question this morning, while mostly to myself, I will present it for all of you. Is it the things around you that determine your existence or is it what you take in that will have the most effect? We too often stand out in the middle of a tornado with our voices raised asking the question, "Why God?" Many times we ignore the fact that He has given us a shelter to move into. If you and I stood watching the undeniable force of the turbulence a tornado brings wouldn't we do everything we could to make it to that shelter? Wouldn't we grab our children, loved ones, neighbors and anyone else on the street we found walking aimlessly and beg them to take shelter with us? We would! I know we would! Brothers and sisters there are tornados approaching. Take shelter! Better yet take someone with you, take everyone with you. Everyone who will listen. I can remember as a child falling off of the ledge of a muddy embankment into a very deep body of water. I went down, found the bottom with my feet, and pushed off to try and reach the surface again. A place where air resided. As I came to the surface my parents faces came into view. They looked panic and my dad was stripping off his clothes. It was an odd feeling to gasp air only to know that I would have to find the bottom again in order to push off in hopes that my face would break the surface of the water again. As I started to sink again I could hear my mother yelling...."OH NO...NO Dear God." It was then that I felt the warmth of my earthly father's body embrace my own. As he wrapped his arms around me I could feel the the pressure of water working against his might to pull me to the top. Before I knew it I was sitting on the embankment again with my parents and grandparents stripping off everything that had weighed me down. We had gone fishing and I thought I was big stuff because I wore a tackle sack around my waste. I am sure that the sack with the added weight of my shoes and clothing is what weighed me to the bottom. While I am sure there was no real danger (except in my childlike memory) it was an experience I will never forget. I cannot imagine the panic of a drowning experience both for the victim and their loved ones. That first breath must be the most precious sound. The first breath of renewed life. The sound of life rushing into their bodies. The sound of grace. You and I can experience the same thing when we will allow ourselves to hear the sound of grace as it floods the spirit of one who has just come to know Christ. My prayer for us all...."Lord let us ache for that sound. Let us become addicted to the sound of grace flooding souls around us in such a way that we are willing to risk it all just to hear it once more. Not for the sake of our gratification Lord, but with the realization that there is an even greater celebration in the heavens. A celebration which will strip away every weight. Oh how we love you LORD. Oh how we love you!"

Blessed to be His,

Kim T.