Compassionate Sheltering

Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into the places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human. ~Henri Nouwen


The night was dark, the wind blowing the leaves inward. We were cozy inside, candles burning as we talked together. The low rumble of thunder and the sudden flash of jagged lightening tried to distract us, but we talked on.


It was in the stillness between lightening flashes that we heard a bark and opened the door. There in the inky darkness sat Thor, Jonathon's dog.  The pup that was tied to a tree. Except he wasn't. In his fright of the storm, he worked himself free and came to where he knew he could find shelter.


I was reminded of others who cross my path in the midst of their storms.  The atmosphere may be calm, but their thunder moaning comes from within, lightening pierces their heart, the joyful music turned funeral dirge of the rain, filling their soul.

I open my arms, caring not that I get wet in the process. I listen to their thunder moans. I feel the lightening pain pierce my own heart while slowing my soul's music to match the beat of their dirge.

It's not the words I speak -- those words which are meaningless to one caught in a storm.  Instead, I allow my hug to speak the words. I ask God to use my arms to shelter, to radiate His comfort.  To fulfill the Scripture, He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us  (2 Corinthians 1:4).

It is through our own storms that we can reach out to others. The thunder that pierced our own heart enables us to live an authentic life of shelter. Those sitting at the door of our heart house will know we understand their pain. 

Thor wasn't invited into my home, but Jonathon did find him shelter from the rain. The storm-of-the-heart may still swirl around my hurting friends, but I want to point them to the One who gives shelter. With the Psalmist, I whisper, The Lord is the one who keeps you safe. So let the Most High God be a home to you (Psalm 91:9). 

The cries for shelter come from around the world.  God has selected each of us to be His arms.  Whose storm is God calling you to embrace?