Stirring our pot Facebook ad: “Storms are part of life, and not just…”

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Storms are part of life, and not just the kind that rattle windows or flood streets. These days, it can feel like the whole world is trembling—pandemics that sweep across continents, riots and unrest, daily headlines filled with stories of racism, cruelty, war, and suffering. The news is relentless, and even if we manage to tune it out for a moment, we still carry the burdens of people we love. Friends and family fight invisible battles. We wrestle with our own demons. Some days, it all feels like a tidal wave ready to pull us under. Where do we turn when it feels like the sky is falling? Scripture is full of people asking that same question. The Psalms especially are a well-worn path for anyone looking for shelter in chaos. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble,” says Psalm 46:1. Over and over, the psalmists return to that word: refuge. David, hunted and hiding in caves, cries out, “For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe” (Psalm 61:3). The sons of Korah sing, “Be merciful to me, my God, for in you I take refuge. I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed” (Psalm 57:1). Think of Elijah, exhausted and afraid, running for his life from Queen Jezebel. He collapses under a broom tree and begs God to let him die. But God meets him right there—in his despair—providing food, water, and rest (1 Kings 19:4-8). God’s presence is often quiet and steady, not a magic fix but a deep well of strength when we’re running on empty. And look at the Israelites, stuck between Pharaoh’s army and the Red Sea. They were terrified, convinced they were doomed. But God tells Moses, “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still” (Exodus 14:14). That’s what the Psalms echo: “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Sometimes the command is to move, to act. Other times, it’s to stop, breathe, and trust. The hymn “Rock of Ages” was born in a storm—literally. Reverend Augustus Toplady found shelter in a crevice during a thunderous downpour, and the words poured out of him: “Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee.” That’s what God offers: a safe place, not always away from the storm, but in the storm. It’s easy to read about “refuge” and picture a cozy sanctuary, but for many Christians around the world, this isn’t a metaphor. They live with real threats—persecution, poverty, violence. For them, God as refuge is a lifeline, a hope that cannot be snatched away. “The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe” (Proverbs 18:10). Refuge isn’t an escape from reality. It’s the assurance that, whatever happens, God is with us—Emmanuel. So what does this mean for us, sitting in our own storms? It means we don’t have to be ruled by fear, even when the world shakes. “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you” (Isaiah 43:2). It means we can rest, knowing our souls are anchored in God’s love. “My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him” (Psalm 62:1). But it doesn’t end there. After we find that quiet, unshakable refuge in God’s presence, we don’t just sit and wait for the storm to pass. We roll up our sleeves and wade into the mess. That’s what Jesus did—he left heaven, stepped into our storms, and wrapped his arms around the hurting. He calls us to do the same. “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2). “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). So we pray, we trust, and then we act. We become the hands and feet of Christ—offering refuge, hope, and love to a world in need. We do it because we’ve been rescued ourselves. God bless you. May you find shelter in his presence, courage for the days ahead, and strength to help others do the same. Stay safe, and keep reaching out—because that’s what we’re called to do. Father, I come to You—not to run away from reality, but because You are my safe place. You promise that no matter what comes, You are with me—Emmanuel, God with us. When the storms rage and the ground trembles, remind me of Your words: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4). You say, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you” (Isaiah 43:2). So, Lord, help me not to be ruled by fear, even when everything feels uncertain. Anchor my soul in Your love. “My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him” (Psalm 62:1). “The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?” (Psalm 27:1). Keep me mindful that Your presence is my shelter—my hiding place. “You are my hiding place; You will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance” (Psalm 32:7). But God, don’t let me stop there. You didn’t call me to just sit quietly in safety while the world aches. Jesus, You left heaven for us. You stepped right into the middle of our storms and wrapped Your arms around broken, hurting people. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). You call me to do the same—“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2). And You said, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). Give me courage to step out, to wade into the mess, and to actually be Your hands and feet in this world. “Let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth” (1 John 3:18). Fill me with compassion. Make me brave enough to reach out, to lift up, to love without fear—because You first loved me. So I pray, I trust, and I move. Help me to offer refuge, hope, and love to a hurting world, because You have rescued me. Thank You for Your shelter. Thank You for Your courage. Thank You for the strength to help others find the same. “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak” (Isaiah 40:29). Stay close, Lord. Shelter me in Your presence. Fill me with boldness for the days ahead. And let me always keep reaching out—because that’s what You’ve called me to do.