The Power That Changes Everything

I have always loved storms, but Florida storms have taken my enjoyment of them to a whole new level. Take today, for instance. It was a sunny 89-degree day, and I was sitting outside enjoying the heat when the wind began to blow — from every direction at once. The trees started to sway. Darkness gathered in the distance, but not for long.

As the cloud cover moved closer and the wind grew stronger, the trees moved in a dance all their own. The temperature dropped from 89 to 77 in five minutes. The change was immediate and undeniable. One moment I needed sunglasses against the glare; the next, I needed the flashlight on my phone just to read the page in front of me. When the rain finally let loose, it came down in torrents — too heavy for the patio to block it, so I had to move inside to stay dry.

In a matter of moments, everything changed.

As all of this was happening, I was reading about repentance. Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth writes, "Repentance is a change of mind that results in a change of behavior." Somewhat like the change I watched happen right before my eyes — and the change God is always longing to bring in our hearts.

Lately, the Lord has been speaking to me about vast but specific areas of repentance: 

• I still seek others' approval when God offers me His own.

• A friend recently repeated my own words back to me as I talked about God — I think I know better. As she mirrored them to me, I sat stunned and ashamed. It quickly became a place of repentance and surrender to the only wise God.

• I have long believed that words said in private don't really count. Last week, Matthew 12:36 told me otherwise: “Everyone will give an account for every careless word spoken.” Suddenly, I realized every word was coming from my heart and shaping it.  Psalm 19:14 became my plea again: "May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing to you, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer."

• Secret attitudes of dislike and disrespect have long found tolerance in my heart. Realizing they are sin has stirred a new neediness in me — I need God to help me see the wrong attitudes and replace them.

• The lack of love I see in my own self-preservation is a recurring theme. The need to move past myself so I can genuinely love others is a daily, desperate one.

The funny thing is, while I loved the change in the weather, I don't always love God's invitation for me to change.  It's often painful — His precision is always right, exacting, and it cuts deep. He never misses the mark, and I'm often left feeling exposed, raw, and ashamed. But that exposure isn't God's way of punishing me; it's the byproduct of being truly seen. 

That God would take the time to show me my own heart is evidence of His nearness, His love, His mercy, and His kindness. I can't begin to count the times He's invited me to repent, and I've ignored the invitation — always with disastrous results. If I loved someone who was walking toward a cliff, I would warn them. That is exactly what God is doing for me.

And here is the better news: God never asks us to do something without providing the power to do it. The power of the storm that rolled through my backyard today is nothing compared to the power at work in those who believe (Ephesians 1:19-20) — the same power that raised Christ from the dead. We are never left to do this alone.

That kind of power doesn't ask my permission before it moves; it simply moves, the same way the temperature dropped before I'd even known what happened.  I don't have to manufacture the courage to change, and I don't have to white-knuckle my way into surrender. I only have to yield — the way the trees yielded, the way the sky gave up its blue for gray and then for black.

I’ve seen these storms enough to know that it will pass as quickly as it came. The sun will return, the air will smell washed and new, and the yard will shine in a way it hadn't an hour before. Nothing in that landscape was untouched by the storm, and nothing in my heart is meant to stay untouched by His invitation either. 

So tonight, I'm asking the Lord for what I cannot give myself: a heart that welcomes the invitation to repent, trusts the One who sends it, and comes through every storm not flattened, but washed clean and growing a little more toward its Maker.