I’ve never liked the wind. The worst is when it blows cold on my neck … when it freezes my ears … and when it robs me of breath.
Wind disrupts things … rearranges the furniture … blows grit into my face.
Is anything more painful than trying to blink when tiny shards of dirt are being pressed into my eyeballs?
A cool breeze on a scorching day … now THAT is welcome relief.
A chilling wind or a forceful gale that knocks things over, however … I hate it. Like … angrily-grit-my-teeth-and-mutter-ugly-words hate it..
Wind stops me in my tracks, makes me want to hide in a safe place even if it means being isolated. Even if I have to surrender desired plans, I might do so if it means avoiding the wind. It scares me. I’ve laid awake at night, listening to the wind, worried about the trees it it might blow down … about what damage it might cause.
I just don’t like trying to move forward against the resistance of the wind. It’s too uncomfortable.
On a recent walk, nearly sabotaged when the wind came without warning, I grumbled only to hear what I believe was the Lord’s message for me.
“Don’t hate the wind. Embrace what I do through the wind.
I brought the Holy Spirit … the gift of My Ongoing Presence … to the earth through a fierce wind.
I use the wind to separate … to blow away what is not necessary in your life … to push off what tries to bend and cripple you … to remove the things that keep your gaze only to the ground in front of you, rather than to the wonders out in front.
The very first breath of human existence was wind from My own Being.
Look to Me … I am the One who calms the wind and exchanges the storm with peace.
Don’t despise the wind.
These thoughts have stayed with me for days. Winds seem to be blowing stuff all over the place around me and in my life … a nation of people who have no patience for one another … angst about the future … the pandemic … economic struggles … crazy weather … ups and downs of having adult children … loss of loved ones … people who can’t get along with each other (oops … already said that!).
Why am I so prone to despise the rough roads and difficult encounters?
Why do I try to run from God’s ways?
Hasn’t He proven Himself faithful over … and over … and over?
Isn’t it just like the devil to get me all worked up and afraid of hard things. Just think about what the devil does … he tries to hold me stagnant and to steer me with easy roads or with avoidance. He can do nothing miraculous and nothing new. The only tools left to him are to imitate (poorly) or to mock the works of God. The imp is not interested in change or growth … he does not have the power of the miraculous or the ability to make old things made new … he only can work to deceive … minimize … stunt … crush … rob.
The devil’s work is to destroy new life … derail truth … extinguish faith. He wants to persuade me that beauty cannot come from ashes … when, in the Lord’s hands, it most certainly does!
If I listen to the devil’s whisperings in the face of prevailing winds, I’ll cower and give up … I know … I’ve done it too often.
While the wind and work of God’s Spirit may be messy, frightening even, I need not fear them.
I ask for courage to not hide. Help me face the winds that are blowing against my life … against Your church … and against my nation.
Help me discern the winds that are from You versus the ones that are not.
Blow Your breath onto my life again.
Blow onto this world, even as it convulses and resists the love of Your Son.
Blow onto my family …
Onto my children and the children of my close friends, as we watch them struggle and sometimes stray.
Blow onto the fearful …
Onto the sick and those depleted of hope.
Even onto the hard-hearted … blow a wind that will soften those hearts and rip off the blinders.
Father … would You blow away the pain and injustices.
Blow away the garbage of my messes …
The clouds that rob my ability to see truth.
Come … Wind of the Spirit …
Come Jesus … fill my life again.
These trees are the victims of not enough wind at the right time. Weighted down with wet, heavy snow and leaves, the limbs couldn’t bear up under the burdens. When the wind finally came, there was too much pressure … something had to give. (A rare October snowstorm)