a light in the storm.

I love flying. It’s one of my favorite forms of travel. Flying means getting to sit down and watch tv, eat snacks or even sleep, all the while making it across the country in just a few hours. I’ve only been nervous on flights a few times that I can remember. Once, I was flying over the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of the night - this was my first flight ever, and I decided to go trans-Atlantic. Go big or go home, I guess. We hit a storm, and as someone who had recently watched every episode of LOST, I was convinced that the end was near. Obviously, I survived this flight and lived to tell the tale.

I flew home from Colorado this week while Hurricane Nicole (no relation) was rolling into the East coast. Clearly, I have flown through some storms before and didn’t really give it much thought outside of hoping that my flights wouldn’t be delayed or canceled. By the time I made it on my last flight, I was relieved. I’d made it to the home stretch with all of my luggage and sanity (what was left of that, at least) and I could relax. As I settled into my seat and turned up some Zach Bryan, I started realizing that the weather was a little worse than I’d first thought. As we began ascending, visibility became murkier and murkier. Yes, the sun had set, but the cloud cover was intense. I don’t have my pilot’s license, but I can imagine that pilots prefer flying through clear skies - even in the dark. I kept staring out the window, but I could only see a light flashing on the wing. I knew it was there to make it clear to anything else in the sky that there was a giant metal object hurtling through that particular portion of space. “I’m here, I’m right here!” it seemed to say to no one but me. In the middle of a storm, with dark clouds surrounding it, it kept pulsing until we landed safely (albeit bumpily) on the ground.

That little light on the edge of the wing reminded me so much of Jesus. I know, I know. I can make anything about Jesus. Through the years of my relationship with Him, I have lived through many dark nights of the soul. The clouds have rolled in, and the turbulence has rocked me to my very core and shaken everything I know to be true. The only consistent thing I have is Jesus. Through loss and grief, through depression and shame, through sin cycles and failure, He has never left me. When I have looked for Him, I have found Him. He has never left me wanting. Even though I have walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I have looked and found Him beside me. Consistent. Tried. True.

Maybe this seems like a silly example to you. If Elijah can find God in the still small voice, I can find Him in the blinking light on the wing of an airplane when I desperately need Him to be near. I sometimes feel that we miss God because we only expect Him in the extraordinary. We expect Him in a great worship song, or in a message from a pastor that we enjoy. We look for Him inside the four walls of our church, and He certainly can be found there. In my reading of the gospels, I often see Jesus in the synagogue. He spent a lot of time teaching and allowing Himself to be found by those He came to save. By the same token, He spent time in houses, around dinner tables, on hillsides, on boats, on seashores, and at wells. He spoke to the wind and the waves and to the little children gathered at His feet. He comforted Mary and Martha and urged Lazarus to arise when it seemed that he had fallen asleep forever. This is the Jesus I know. This is the Jesus I love. Remarkable, radical, extraordinary, but also available, gracious, and gentle.

If you have not sought Him, or maybe even have felt abandoned by Him, this is a safe place to admit that. Jesus is big enough to handle your feelings and emotions directed at Him. Can I encourage you to be brave enough to try again? Look for Him again. There is a story in Lord of the Rings, where Gandalf tells Aragorn, who is defending the people of Rohan at Helm’s Deep that he will return at sunrise on the fifth day. The battle that wages is epic, and the people of Rohan sustain many losses. They fear being decimated completely at the hands of Saruman’s army. They are defeated in mind and body. Gandalf has sworn to bring aid, but where is he? When all hope is lost, when the king straps on his battle armor to die with glory, when the dawn is breaking and no help has come - where is the help that was promised? Suddenly, at the top of the hill, where the first light begins to break, Gandalf appears. He is not alone, for he has brought a cavalry that rolls through the enemy’s forces with ease. The help has come. The battle is won.

In the midst of the battle and the storm, it is easy to feel abandoned. Look again to the east, to first light, to the breaking of the dawn. Find Him in the pulsing light on the wing of the plane, in the way the sun sets and flares brightly against the coming of the night. Find Him in streetlights, in the changing of seasons, in the mountains, in the way the waves kiss the shore. Don’t stop looking for Him. I promise you will find Him.

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Nicole Worm is the founder of Redeemed Collective, a recovering perfectionist, and is committed to eventually seeing the Atlanta Falcons win a Super Bowl. Also, committed to being dog mom to Bear.