When I was a kid, God was like a Michigan snowstorm. When the snow blew in and the drifts began to rise, I enjoyed only the good things that came from such storms. Things like a holiday from the drudgery of grade school, ice skating on the lake, games of King on the Mountain, sledding, and hot cocoa breaks. Other than my dad’s occasional “You only like it because you don’t have to drive in it” comments, I was oblivious to anything other than fun. The same was true of my understanding of God. Like the drifts that reached the roof or the giant icicles, God was big and powerful. He could do anything and I believed it. In true childish self-centeredness, I mostly focused on the “fun parts”. Not just the things God could do, but the things He could do for me. After all, in my mind all of life was about me, me, me. Why should God be any different?
When I was in my late teens and early twenties, God was like a Georgia snowstorm. He existed, of course, but for a time He became smaller to me. Faith and reason battled within me. I wondered if maybe it was time to put things into an educated, reasonable perspective. Was He really the big deal my parents made Him out to be? Was He really that powerful, that all-knowing, that in control? Did I only believe because that’s what I had been taught all those years? Lots of other people doubted Him, His Word, and His control over this world. There were days I wondered it they were right. When the sun is shining and a balmy breeze blows, it’s easy to forget the millions of people scraping their windshields clear each morning.
As I grow older, God is like a Minnesota snowstorm. I see evidence of His existence every day. He is in His Word, in my heart, and in the lives of others around me. He is bigger and more powerful than I ever thought, but He’s more. He covers us with a heavy blanket of grace, forgiveness, and love. And even though I’ve seen Him all my life, His beauty takes my breath away in a new way. And just when I think my heart and mind can take in the smallest bit of His greatness, I remember the Minnesota snowstorm once again. And I realize that in all the snow that stretches across these fields, that falls through the night and swirls into drifts, that gathers itself into frozen mountains, there is not one snowflake that matches another. I must admit, in the words of King David, that “such knowledge is too wonderful for me; It is high, I cannot attain it.” (Psalm 139:6)
This winter, whether you’re blessed with a blizzard, whether your blessed with sunshine and warmth, or whether your blessed with something in between, I pray you believe that the God Who controls all things is the same One Who gave Himself to save you.