I grew up in a rambling, pre-1860s farmhouse in rural southwestern Michigan. We had a “Michigan basement”,” “– unfinished dirt floors, walls made of fieldstone and rocks, crudely cemented together, exposed floorboards and joists from the ground floor providing a ceiling. A rickety wooden stairway ended in a small cemented landing. It was a haven for dust and cobwebs, and everything in the basement had a grimy film of dust mixed with the residue of an old oil-burning furnace. It was littered with “dead” things– a rusted-out bicycle frame from the 1940s; a long-forgotten set of rattan patio furniture with mildewed pads and broken wicker bits sticking out underneath; a broken rake; and, in one corner, what looked like the skeleton of a small rodent. There was an old cabinet, formerly with two doors, now standing with one door hanging askew, and the other one missing all but half a hinge piece. Inside were old Mason jars, rimmed with lime deposits, holding nails, screws, nuts and bolts, and other odds and ends, and more Mason jars holding home-canned tomatoes from a garden of unknown vintage. There was a single 40-watt incandescent light bulb screwed into an ancient ceramic socket and mounted on one of the overhead floorboards, which did little to diminish the general sense of gloom and decay. There were four small windows–but they had long ago succumbed to grime and dirt from inside and out. It was the stuff of childhood nightmares.
Last week, we had a tornado warning, and one of my friends from church spoke of taking her children to the basement to wait out the weather. It reminded me of my own mother, gathering my sister and I– sometimes pulling us from our beds– and taking us to shelter in the basement until a storm had passed. My father often worked the night shift, and so the job was left to Mom to herd us into the southwest corner of the basement, being sure to bring a blanket and a flashlight, and make sure we were wearing slippers or shoes. She also had an old portable AM/FM radio, so we could listen to the weather bulletins amidst the gloom and dust and damp of the basement.
And yet–
My memories of going to the basement during a storm are not memories that inspire terror or disgust. I never wanted to visit the basement any other time, but during a storm, it was our “safe” place. The winds and rain and hail might rage outside, but we were warm and snug (sometimes too warm!) in our little corner. And no matter how frightened my mom may have been, she always reassured us that we would be safe together in that place. And then, she would lead us in prayer. We prayed that Dad would be safe at work. We prayed for anyone who was in the path of the storm. We prayed that God would protect our house. We prayed for those who were on the road, and for those who would have to go out after the storm to fix electric lines or rescue others. And we thanked God for our basement!
Sometimes, God uses grubby basements to be our “safe” place. What otherwise may seem like a scary situation can become a cause for praise and celebration when we remember that God is with us!
I think of the prophet Jeremiah, who was arrested and thrown into a cistern–a place far worse than our basement– but God caused him to be rescued (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Jeremiah%2038&version=NIV). He went from the mud-filled cistern to the palace of the King! And even though Jeremiah faced many other trials and griefs, Jeremiah was able to write: “
I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. 20 I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. 21 Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. 23 They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” (Lamentations 3:19-24 NIV)
And I think of Paul and Silas in prison in Philippi (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts%2016:16-34&version=ESV ). They sang and prayed after having been beaten and unfairly arrested. And they were trapped in the prison when an earthquake hit! But the end result was not only their vindication and freedom, but salvation for the Philippian jailor and his family!
There are seasons when we are forced to go to the basement–literally and figuratively. There are times when we must sit and wait in the dark and damp, uncertain of where the storm will hit or how long it will last. But often, in those basement moments, we find ourselves closer to God than when we climb mountains! God sits with us in the gloom. God has the power to turn our fear and uncertainty into praise and worship. And God will bring those memories of His comfort and strength back to us in other times of trouble.
We had a storm blow through the area the other night. We were under a tornado warning, and a couple of tornadoes did touch down several miles northeast of here. Long before the tornado warning was issued, the weather forecast predicted strong storms with the possibility of hail and/or tornadoes. But even without them, it was easy to sense that “something was in the air.” There was a quality of heaviness in the very air outside. And the sky was an unnatural greenish-gray color, even where it wasn’t dark with storm clouds.
In life, we often get warning signs of impending “storms”–physical symptoms that tell us there may be a problem like infection or disease that needs to be diagnosed; a tense atmosphere at work that suggests big changes may be coming; withdrawal of a family member that alerts us they may be struggling with emotional or mental issues. These “atmospheric disturbances” may be subtle at first. We may choose to ignore them, or dismiss their importance, until we find ourselves in the middle of the storm!
God calls on us to trust Him in any weather or circumstance. We can pray about even the slightest change in our “atmosphere,” whether at home, work, or even internally. And part of God’s wisdom is to send us warnings so that we can not only pray, but take proactive measures. We can reach out to family members, make an appointment with our doctor, be cautious about spending in the weeks and months ahead, seek out help and counseling, etc.
But sensing “atmospheric disturbances” is not all about seeking a remedy or avoiding struggles. Even with advanced warnings, some people last night were unable to avoid damage to their properties or loss of electricity from the storms. Several people were trapped in a shipping warehouse that was hit by one of the tornadoes. Thankfully, no one lost their life; still, it took hours to rescue them all, and some of them went home to no power. But what if– just what if– someone looking up at the sky, or feeling the heaviness in the air, prayed in that moment? What if they prayed for safety– not just for themselves, but for others who would be in the path of the storm? What if someone in that shipping warehouse made plans weeks ago for tornado drills and emergency plans to protect the workers, and made the call for everyone to shelter together?
There are hundreds of stories of dramatic rescues and miraculously saved lives after almost any weather emergency. But how many untold stories are lost in the simple prayers and small corrections that take place when God’s people respond to “atmospheric disturbances” with prayer and wisdom?
And when God chooses to allow storms to come into our lives, how many stories could be told of the presence of God to calm, not the storm, but our own fear of it? God knows, as we cannot, how big the storm will be, how long it will last, and what “damages” we will face. And His Grace is sufficient to give us everything we need to face them all. That doesn’t mean we won’t suffer– damage, loss, grief, frustration– these are part of our life in a fallen world. God won’t always remove these things from our life. But he will NEVER abandon us to face them alone.
Jesus Christ faced storms in His life. One of them came on the Sea of Gallilee, as Jesus was sleeping in the boat. (See Mark 4: 35-41) A storm came up, and the disciples were terrified. They woke Jesus up, and Jesus calmly rebuked the wind and the waves, and the storm stopped. We often focus on the fact of Jesus being able to control the wind and the waves. But one of the amazing things about this story is that Jesus was IN THE BOAT! His own life was in danger from the storm. The disciples were not alone. Jesus did not let them put out to sea and face the waves, while He was safe on shore.
And so, too, Jesus is WITH US in our storms. We don’t have to wake Him up, and He may not choose to give us a miracle, but He’s right there! He can be trusted, no matter what our circumstances, no matter what dangers or damages we have to face. He knows how the storm ends; He knows how our story ends; He knows when the sun will come out again, just like it did earlier this week, announcing that all will be well.
I suffer from seasonal depression. In spite of the joy I know I should feel during this season; in spite of all the reasons I have to BE joyful, I have been in a funk. I’ve been physically ill, but even more, I’ve been mentally drained and emotionally overwhelmed for over a week. I’ve missed posting a couple of days recently, because I feel hypocritical writing about Christmas.
But I choose to write tonight about the enduring power of prayer. There are people praying for me, not because I’ve said anything about my condition, but because they are faithful in praying for people, and I happen to be one of them. The clouds are beginning to lift and I’m finding it easier to feel what I already know– that God is in control; that He cares; that He has a purpose beyond the sadness. It’s why I’m so passionate about praying and keeping a prayer log or prayer journal. I am one of those who pray for others, and I am one of those who are being prayed for–we lift each other up, even when–especially when–we don’t fully understand why.
Some may ask, “How can you say that prayer works if you are depressed? Doesn’t that just prove that prayer isn’t working?” Some people mock the power of prayer in the face of “bad” circumstances. The recent school shooting in my home state of Michigan, or the recent spate of tornadoes in Kentucky and other states are prime examples. Sincere people of faith are being mocked for saying that their “thoughts and prayers” are with the people who are suffering. Mockers say that thoughts and prayers are meaningless–otherwise, prayers should have prevented the events in question from ever happening. In the aftermath, only actions are of value.
In the face of disaster, distress, or depression, prayers may seem small and even meaningless. Most prayers don’t pack the power of a tornado, nor elicit such an immediate and dramatic response. My depression didn’t suddenly disappear the moment someone began praying for me; those whose homes and lives have been turned upside-down in the past days and weeks didn’t wake up this morning to find that it was just a bad dream. And prayer should be accompanied by thoughtful and compassionate action. But prayer heals– and healing takes time. God chooses to use the prayers of others to seep into our lives; to fortify us and draw us together. Actions may change the circumstances, but prayer changes the person. Prayer reaches beyond the circumstances and the limitations of our human nature.
So today, I will pray. Through the “funk,” through the pain, through the confusion and chaos of a troubled world, I will choose to pray. For those individuals listed in my journal; for those whose needs are posted online or made known to me some other way; for those whose names and faces come to mind throughout the day. Because it is God’s way. Because others are faithfully doing the same. Because, in the end, it brings joy and peace. Even when–especially when– things seem so bleak.
Pursuing Prayer 