A Word to the Troubled Believer

This post is for the troubled believer who suffers many insults and much ridicule from others.  Often your days are gloomy and long simply because you let others have a big say concerning your mood swings.  They determine when you are sad, or angry or happy.  It's time to stop giving them so much control over you and let God's joy and peace reign within.

A Word to the Troubled Believer

Why are we so troubled and cast down?

Why so perplexed and overwhelmed?

Why, dragging in the hole upon ourselves

We ignore the source from which hope stems?

Why do words of others slice us through

As though we are on a cutting block?

Who gives the authority to shape our mood

And we have no power to make him stop?

When we’re sad someone else is responsible,

When anger rushes in someone else is blamed,

When anxiety stops us dead in our tracks

We are in no doubt about that somebody’s name.

“I am in control of my own life,” we often say,

Sticks and stones break bones but words, never!

But when bodily injuries have long healed

Those left on the mind still cause a shiver.

We’re not our own but oft controlled by another

A relative, a friend or some important other,

Who make us smile when they so desire

And frown to the extent that we even perspire.

They are at the work place and also in the home,

At the club you’ll find them; they decide our tone,

Present in the church and they’re also on the street

With words to change our mood every time we meet.

Why entrust my frame of mind to another’s whim?

Why to a best friend, the boss or a next of kin?

Why should another determine my disposition?

Why can’t I wrest this control from any of them?

Just a few moments ago I was having a good laugh

Compliments of a friend that acts like he’s daft,

Then as sudden as summer rain my mood changed

With the mouthing of one who is clearly deranged.

And more often than not they’re just a pack of lies

Looking for an audience to gather round like flies,

There’s nothing like rumour which stretches for miles

That puts a frown on a face and remove all the smiles.

  

Need not be a friend sometimes a mere acquaintance

Can ruffle our feathers or make us rue his existence,

And stretch our faces to a pained and ugly mask

Making our lives much more difficult a task.

That sphere of our life that we give over to others

Should be given only to God and not another,

The Father alone should determine our mood

And His peace and joy should be to us as food.

Next time you are angry don’t blame some one

Accuse yourself and make an effort to move on,

You will eventually find out that after a while

Blaming someone else would not be your style.

It may take a year, two years or may be three,

Once you get the hang of it you will be free,

Liberated from those to whom you gave control

And those you allowed to put your life ‘on hold’. 

Your witness would be brighter; that’s a fact,

And clearer to them that once held you back,

God would get the praise, the honour and glory

As your life narrates a totally different story.

So, what is your resolve now you know all this?

Will you go on as usual and put your joy at risk?

Give up your peace of mind to all who insist

Or decide now, all negative influences, “Dismiss”?

Stewart Russell © 2014

Not As Safe As We Think

This post is in remembrance of Hurricane Janet which struck the island of Barbados on September 22, 1955.

It was dark and gloomy.  No one would believe it was just two o’clock in the afternoon.  Those of us who knew just waited and hoped.  The little ones had no idea of what was pending.  They hadn’t the slightest hint of what to expect of the monster to the northeast of the island.  The meteorologists had predicted a certain hit.  There was no way that we were going to escape this time.

Forty-two years had passed since our country had been ravaged by a fierce hurricane.  It had spent some two hours with us and when it had gone, one could not believe that it had left so much carnage in its wake.  Whole roofs had been deposited hundreds of metres from their sites and sheets of galvanize were seen everywhere.  Many were the homeless and the destitute.  Power lines were down and there was no running water.  There was even loss of life.  Flood waters had accounted for some while several others had been fatally injured by collapsing buildings.  Hence those of us who knew, just prayed and hoped that this one would do like all of the other hurricanes since then.

Each one had miraculously passed us by.  It was as if some unseen hand had simply steered them away from us.  The result was a complacent, cocky pride that stated we would never be struck again.  Some even argued that Barbados was now outside the hurricane path.  The knowledgeable and sensible knew differently.  Like the ‘wise man’ who built his house upon the rock, they, while not being pessimistic, were still prepared for any eventuality.

The afternoon grew darker with each passing hour.  The frolic and the lawlessness began to decrease.  Gradually everyone began to be more observant.  After all, it was four o’clock and outside appeared more like six o’clock.  Suddenly we began to feel the first winds of hurricane Huron.  The coconut trees started their dance.  They bent and swayed with the wind in a perfect simulation of limbo dancers as the galvanize paling tuned in with an incessant staccato. The electric wires also added their whistling sounds to the disharmonic orchestration continuously activated by these gale force winds. The worst was yet to come.

                             

The winds increased.  It was as though some huge monster was outside puffing away at his greatest.  The children began to cry.  Hilda screamed at her loudest.  “The roof is going!  The roof is going!”  There was a ripping sound.  Suddenly a part of the roof went sailing through the air.  To make matters worst, it started to rain.  Since there was now no covering over the front section of the house, you could well imagine the state that the contents were in.  Everything was just simply soaked.

                                

We had added a stone section to the house.  It comprised a dining room and kitchen as well as two bedrooms.  We determined that this wall area was the safest place in the house.  As a result we confined our activity to this part of the house.  At this time the wind was howling at its worst and there were streaks of lightning that seemed so close that we could hear the click of it.  The claps of thunder which followed were so loud that the very walls of the house shook.  We cuddled together and prayed that at the end of this nightmare we would be safe and unharmed.  Four year old Tony inquired with tears in his eyes, “Are we all going to die?”  I assured him with as much conviction as I could that I did not think so.

The wind died down and the rain abated.  Relief spread over their faces but it was short lived as I announced that this calm was only the eye of the hurricane and the winds would soon commence blowing from the other direction.  This hurricane was only half done.  The howling winds started up again.  I tried to peep outside to see if I could ascertain what the damage was like but it was extremely dark.  I could not even see the house opposite.  This was truly a nightmare of the greatest proportions.  Suddenly there was a flash of lightning.  For that split second all around lit up as if the sun had come out in its brilliance.  What I saw then literally caused me to become motionless for what appeared to be minutes. It drove so much dread in me that I have not quite gotten over the experience yet, nor do I expect to be over it in a long while to come.  In that split second of brilliance I saw the spot on which my neighbours' house was located.  All I saw was the spot.  I wondered how it was possible for an entire house to disappear just like that.  Even more puzzling to me was the state of the aged couple who lived there and who had refused to go to a shelter.  I began to shiver.  I asked myself, “When will it all end?”   What a terrible ordeal for them to have gone through!  One moment they were safe in their home, the next, there was no trace of either them or their home.  This experience was nothing that any sane person would wish for.  I was sure then, that those who were wishing and hoping for such an experience were now regretting even thinking of such a wish.  Such was the terror visited upon us by this destructive hurricane, Huron. 

                       

I moved away from the taped pane of glass.  Outside the wind was as furious as ever and the rain kept up a constant staccato on the roof.  As loud as this unwelcomed din was, it could not shut out the voice in my head.  These thoughts continued to reiterate, “What terrible tragedy could have befallen my friendly neighbours, the Merritts?"  My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when the house began to shake.  I could not understand how the wind could shake these walls that were reinforced with steel and concrete.  This was the wonder of wonders.  The walls continued to shake.  They were about to collapse.   I began to scream and the more I screamed, as if in mockery, the more the walls shook.  They started to cave in on my family and me.  I shouted, “No! No!  Dear God, don’t let this happen to us!”

“Lionel! Lionel!  Wake up!  Wake up!  You’ve been having a bad dream.  My, look how you are perspiring.”  I jumped up and rubbed my eyes.  Even then I could not believe that it was only a dream.  I hugged my wife and three children.  It felt so good to know that we were all alive and well and that this experience was only a dream.  I looked out the window and there stood the Merritt’s house!  Yes! yes!  It was only a dream but a very real possibility!

                                                       Stewart Russell © 1997