As I look out my high-rise window right now, I can no longer see the Philly skyline. After a week of rain, we still have showers! — today the clouds are so low I am looking into one. Last year I think we had a drought, this year a deluge.

I felt like I was in a fog long before the clouds descended. I’m not alone. You might also feel like a dark cloud has dimmed the light since Trump took office and issued 150+ executive orders. Sometimes this thunder and flurry of paper feels like a storm cloud, but more often it just obscures our view of the future. I won’t go into the latest from his trip to the Middle East and the awful budget bill, the impact of tariff nonsense, general corruption, and Stephen Miller. I’ve done quite a bit of that lately.

Regardless of the details, the descent into authoritarianism is a cloud of worry over most of us. The other day I looked out into my life landscape and my generally positive future seemed nowhere in sight. I had the usual worry about clients and my relationships — but what about the country? What is happening to the church? Selling my condo has been Trumped. Other business interests are beginning to be impacted. The 27% of my zip code neighbors who live below the poverty line are being squeezed even more.

Worry is not good. There is help.

I was having trouble turning into the presence of God as I looked out my window and prayed, so I looked for some help. What I found might help you, too.

First, I went to the book I am reading: Companions on the Inner Way by Morton Kelsey. I thumbed back to s spot I had underlined. Kelsey notes how Jesus called God “Abba” and told us to do the same. He says “Abba” should be translated “Daddy,” not just Father. It is affectionate, familiar.

My own father was not as warm as I would have liked, so I have always relished my somewhat “secret” relationship with God I developed when I lived with him, which still feels warm. I am grateful for that.

I think many of us like Jesus the most when we see him with his disciples saying, “I will not leave you orphans, I will come to you.” I feel great sympathy for my clients who never had a parent who could be relied upon to show up in ways that communicated love to them. I have lamented with 30somethings who are still waiting for love to “happen” in their lives. They are still like children in the cradle waiting to be picked up. Or they are really “over” not getting picked up and will tell you they’ve given up on true love.

I was enjoying my relatively easy relationship with God when a stray thought wheedled its way into my mind. My somewhat passive acceptance of  God’s love is great, but I decided I needed to add some conviction to it. Lounging in God’s arms is good, especially when I am worried, and such repose should be constant. But in a day clouded with alarm everywhere I look, I think the feeling needs some kick.

Receiving grace should meet our conviction

My mind turned to the wonderful Romans 5

We have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand, and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. (vv. 1-2)  

There is Abba gracing me with that wonderful safe place to stand every day and delight in the hope of glory. But Paul goes on with the kick.

And not only that, but we also boast in our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. (vv. 3-5)

There is the conviction we need to apply. God’s love has been poured into my heart, and I’ve got plenty of affliction. Paul thinks that reality is going to result in something good. The Spirit is activating the conviction zone. I think of conviction as a response to the Spirit nudging me — that’s a good reason I discipline myself to pray every day, so I can get nudged.

Even more, conviction is the passionate action I take after I’ve turned into God’s embrace. My football coaches taught me this by saying (well, yelling at me a lot), “White, it is great you know the plays. But you don’t block and tackle with enough conviction (they probably said balls, or guts, and they really meant malevolence). If you don’t act with passion, nothing good will come of your understanding. I apply that lesson to loving. Love is a gift we experience from God; but it does not become something we live until it meets with  conviction and becomes our passion, too.

Love received. Love given.

I have so much experience with the Bible, I could then pull up two more places that guided me further. (Therefore, learn the Bible people).

I did not even try to remember where the phrase “mountains falling into the sea” was in the Bible. I Googled it. I guess I did not really need to find it. I knew the gist because I was experiencing it. I feel like the mountain of the U.S. I am used to is falling apart. It is unraveling before our eyes. A lot of us are watching it or trying to ignore it. And millions of us are convicted to respond. (Were you out on the street last Saturday? What are you planning for June 14?).

Google pointed me toward the famous Psalm 46. Here is the part I was looking for from Jonathan Alter’s translation:

God is a shelter and strength for us.
a help in straits, readily found.
Therefore, we fear not when the earth breaks apart,
when mountains collapse in the heart of the seas.
Its waters roar and roil,
mountains heave in its surge.

As I pondered that poetry in the middle of my dire straits, an old song rose up. It was very popular in the early days of our former church.

Even if you did not take the time to listen to it, just try on this mantra. It is the prayer of love meeting conviction:

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders.
Let me walk upon the waters
wherever you would call me.
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander,
and my faith will be made stronger
in the presence of my Savior.

These lines are a jolt in the middle of the song. When we sang it as a church, we would get progressively louder and more convicted as it repeated.  Glorious. I was glad to recall the experience the other day when mountains were falling and the waters were rising. I am called into new things in my old age. I need stronger faith for stronger worries.

Truly alive in the middle of uncertainty

I love how Oceans is a mash up of Psalm 46 and the story of Peter being called out of the boat in the storm. When we sing it, we start out being comforted by God in the middle of straits frothing as mountains crumble into them. Then the mantra reflects Peter seeing the Lord walking on water and getting out of his storm-tossed boat. I didn’t go to the Bible to find Peter’s story. I did not really need to, since I’ve heard it from flannel graph to commentary. What’s more, I’d just seen it on YouTube in an excerpt the creators The Chosen have uploaded. It is moving.

Even if you did not watch the scene, know that one of the good things about this video rendition is it does not shy away from the fact that we experience a lot of uncertainty and trauma which undermine our faith. We will always want to cry out and have Jesus save us and not leave us alone, just like we wished our parents had been more adept. God will not leave us orphans. At the same time, we will always need to grow out of our old selves and into our new – need to keep our eyes on Jesus and get out of the confines of our present understanding. Affliction produces endurance and endurance produces character.

Character is the fruit of conviction. We are not orphans. Great. But can you imagine a better time in history to have the love of God meet you in your trouble and energize your conviction to be truly alive in the middle of it and even make a difference? I keep telling myself “Endure the worry. Jesus is with you. The love of God is alive in you, even if the storm seems long.”