Storms reveal when our faith isn’t as solid as we thought and remind us that we need grace to trust God more.

Hurricane Milton pelted Florida’s west coast, making landfall about an hour and a half south of the city I call home. A Florida girl my whole life, I’ve lived through Hurricane Andrew (which decimated Homestead when my parents lived in nearby Fort Lauderdale) and dozens of other “close calls.” None have been closer than this one to my family.

Though parts of my neighborhood flooded, my family suffered no major damage other than the discomfort of no power and some lost fencing. As the mom of a young toddler, however, three days without power chafed at my comfort zone. The storm itself was terrifying to listen to in the dead of night, but the aftermath revealed chinks in my spiritual armor I hadn’t recognized before. Perhaps you can relate.

Storms test our trust in God.

The worst effects of the storm hit our area around eight at night and didn’t end until after three in the morning. We lost power right before my son’s bedtime, but to my relief, he slept soundly.

I did not. Curled up in the twin bed in his room, I listened to the roaring wind, ripping down our street like a runaway train. My pulse throbbed, and I kept clenching my teeth, bracing for something to pound against the boarded window.

My thoughts ping-ponged. On the one hand, I held onto the image of Jesus asleep on a pillow during a storm (Mark 4:38). On the other hand, I felt like His disciples, shaking Him awake and wanting Him to make it stop.

Jesus’ words to them rebuked me as well. “Why are you so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?” (Mark 4:40, NKJV)

Storms reveal when our faith isn’t as solid as we thought and remind us that we need grace to trust God more.

Storms reveal our selfishness.

The second night of no power, I could not sleep. Though the storm was long gone, I woke at midnight and retreated to the couch where I couldn’t hear the raccoons tittering outside the screens of our open bedroom window. Our smoke alarms beeped at random like something from a horror movie, and the stagnant air stuck to my skin.

Halfway through a prayer for the power to return, I stopped, feeling convicted. Here I was, praying for electricity more fervently than for lost people to know Jesus.

Here I was, praying for electricity more fervently than for lost people to know Jesus.

When life’s storms hit, they teach us to focus on what really matters, not just on the immediate needs of the moment. I Timothy 2:4 tells us that God “desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (NKJV). God doesn’t desire our comfort or what is convenient for us. He desires that lost people find Him.

We believers sometimes need our comforts stripped away to remind us how we ought to pray and what we ought to prioritize.

Storms remind us how much we need connection.

Three days without power prevented us from watching the news and going online. With internet and cell service down, we could only hope that fifty percent of our messages would send.

Ironically, I still carried my phone around, even when I had it on airplane mode to preserve the battery. I wanted to feel connected when I wasn’t.

I think most people did. My morning walks with my son showed people coming out of the woodwork. We talked to our neighbors and helped each other any way we could. One neighbor shared his generator and power cords so we could keep our fridge cool. He and my husband worked together to repair the fence we share.

The Bible tells us to connect with and invest in others. “Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all, especially to those who are of the household of faith” (Galatians 6:10). During storms, we often don’t have to look farther than next door to find someone else with a burden we can share.

When life is smooth sailing, we can get lost in our own worlds and take our connectivity for granted. Storms remind us people are precious, and we are surrounded by others with hurts and needs. Is there a new mom who could use a meal or her house cleaned? Could you send flowers to a friend who has lost someone dear to her? Think of someone you can encourage today.

Storms challenge us to prepare.After the hurricane, my husband and I made a mental list of ways we need to prepare better for
“next time.” Hurricane season in Florida comes once a year, but storms in our lives don’t follow any calendar schedule. Which of the areas we examined might be “weak” in your spiritual life, and how can you take steps to prepare today for the next storm you face?