Friday, June 10, 2011

The Tempest

A brewing storm on I-40

"When the tempest passes, the wicked is no more,
but the righteous is established forever."
Proverbs 10:25

                              The Tempest
It was calm as I overlooked the waters of the bay, 
Not unlike many days I had seen before.
And with my back to the scurrying crowd behind me, 
I could imagine blissful stillness, nothing more.

 The cry of the gulls was sweet to my ears, 
A familiar sound that I often fondly heard.
In their shrill cry I almost sensed a warning, 
But to maintain my reverie, I dismissed it as absurd.

As I gazed into the distance, I spied a small cloud.
A subtle wind began to rise.
Something within me nagged me to observe it; 
instead I turned my head and closed my eyes.

Life here is so easy, so carefree, I mused. 
This island is blessed with pure serenity.
No storm has overtaken it in all these years;
to even contemplate it seems vile obscenity.

As I stood upon the rocks I so often carelessly climbed, 
I noticed a wave slap hard at the breaker.
The salt spray that hit me should have alarmed me;
I decided to think on it later.

But before my heart would dare conceive it,
the storm had unleashed all its grave fury.
I was guilty of ignoring the telltale signs. 
The biting wind was my judge, the raucous thunder my jury. 

It slapped at my face and tore at my clothes 
and promised to blind me with fear.
Though the torrents fell round me and the darkness screamed evil, 
my heart sensed a Presence was near.

As I fell to my knees, pelted by the winds and rain, 
it seemed that the blackness would enfold me.
I cried out to the Creator of nature’s wrath 
and begged Him in mercy to hold me.

For hours the fair island that had been my secure shelter
was battered and beaten and torn.
I made my way to the top and clung firmly to the Rock 
and waited out the cold, blinding storm.

The storm did subside, but others followed.
Alas, my fair island was not immune.
But in the midst of the chaos I learned a wise lesson. 
My insensitive heart was fine-tuned.

For the One who causes the gales to blow
and the fierce rains to pellet the earth
Is the same Lord who calms the raging seas
and restores the land with new birth.

So amidst the harsh storms of life I have found 
 He allows them as part of His plan.
But the Rock that I cling to is eternally secure; 
I’m held firm by His strong loving hand.

I don’t look for the storms, but as I cling to the top 
of the Rock, I can almost see
A glimpse of eternity; how very much sweeter 
that haven called heaven will be!
 Gloria Godbee

As we ride the storms with the Rock of our salvation,


Cranberry Morning

Wonderful poem, Gloria! Reminds me of dialogue between C.S. Lewis's Susan and Mr. Beaver (the following was taken from from Christianity Today:) 'Before the children's encounter with Aslan in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, Lewis has Susan, who is always a bit too concerned with her own well-being, ask Mr. Beaver whether Aslan is safe. "'Course he isn't safe," the Beaver replies. "But he's good." Later in Lewis's narrative we get the famous line, "People who have not been in Narnia sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at the same time.'

Our God is definitely not safe...but He IS GOOD.


Oh my!! This was wonderful. Please print it out and put it in the devotional book you are making. I loved the word pictures. And I couldn't wait to see who had written it. YOU of course!!


THAT was unbelievable! I'm so honored to know such a poet!!! Well done Gloria. Well done.

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