“It was a dark and stormy night…” What an appropriate opening line for today’s meditation. As I type this, it’s dark out, the wind is howling like it’s offended by something, snow is swirling, and I don’t even want to know what the wind chill is. A perfect morning to enjoy my first coffee of the day from the comfort of my couch and ponder when – or if – I even want to venture outside.
Sometime around 6 am, I opened the door to let Tori outside. She took one look, stopped, stared at me, and gave me the look that says, “This is absolutely your fault.” Not the weather’s fault. Certainly not her fault. Mine. It made me laugh, but it also made me wonder how often I give God that same look.
When life turns cold, when plans change, when our inner weather shifts without warning, or when anxiety howls louder than our prayers, it’s tempting to stand at the threshold and glare heavenward. Why didn’t you stop the wind, the rain, and the snow?
The days after Christmas can feel a bit like this. The lights are still up, but the glow has dimmed. The joy of the season lingers, yet reality has returned with a chill. The miracle has happened, and now we’re left to live in the aftermath. We’re also in “in-between” time, waiting for one year to end and a new year to begin. Sometimes when a new year comes, I feel a bit like Tori. I want to peek out the door first before deciding whether I want to go outside.
But here’s the good news. God doesn’t retreat when we hesitate at the door (or even laugh at us like I laughed at Tori). The One who entered our world on a quiet, ordinary night stands with us—patient, present, and loving—whispering, “You’re not alone. I am here, and I will not abandon you to the storm.” The God who came to us in the darkness of Bethlehem is still with us. Even when we give God that look.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:5). That’s a great verse for a day like today.
Prayer: Gracious God, on mornings when the wind howls and my mind won’t settle, help me remember that you are still with me. When I find myself in cold or dark places, remind me of your steady presence and unshakable love. Give me the courage to trust your light and know I am not alone. Amen.
