The Storm is a Brewin’

It is coming.

The barks of the dogs of life alerts us to it long before its arrival. We have either ignored them, thrown an old shoe in their direction or yelled out the window to “shut up!”, which never seems to help except add to the fire of our emotions. The house begins to moan in an old disturbed way that speaks of the roiling pressures that have started to buffet its tired walls. Window frames begin to flap, slowly at first, but quickly picking up the pace adding to the growing clamor.

As the danger mounts, books are shaken from their shelves, dishes and lamps bounce their way to destructive shattering on the floor below. Tables and chairs take on a life of their own, toppling over but never settling down. Even the heaviest of things—the four poster bed and grandma’s old china hutch are no match against the invisible power which has seized the day and the house within it, twisting and turning, shaking it with such force it seems as if the foundations are being ripped from its underbelly.

Window panels spawn momentary webs of delicate cracks before exploding into a violent maelstrom of swirling shards and for but a moment, with a bloody arm of protection shielding your eyes you dare to look at the monster which approaches. Never have you experienced such a beast. Never have you witnessed such destruction. There is nothing that can be done—and nowhere to run or to hide. The world as you know it is being lifted and shaken, torn from the generational roots upon which it was built.

This pillar of destruction spans from the throne room of heaven to the rubble of the earth, its width enveloping all from horizon to horizon. Its incalculable power is unstoppable, piercing the impenetrable, displacing the unmovable and razing the unshakable. No engineering marvel can curtail it, no medical breakthrough can cure it, no military force can destroy it and no political gathering can find a solution by a vote.

While the steps of a righteous person are ordered by the Lord who delights in their way, the steps of the wicked, those whose hearts are as black as coal and dead in their trespasses and sins unknowingly follow another who seeks to displace the one true God and King. Their rebelliousness against their creator God, having reached a tipping point as it once did thousands of years ago has brought this judgmental conclusion to our doorstep. Their ‘gnashing at the teeth’ prideful wickedness has turned the world inside out to the point where it is as it was in the days of Noah—where every imagination of the thoughts of their hearts is only evil continually.

There is no victory by human hand and we are a sad and ignorant lot when we believe there is. There is only victory by a gracious hand which will reach down from heaven and pluck you mercifully from the valley of death which is riding hard and fast toward you. It is not too late—not yet. But time is running short, for the storm is a brewin’.

And it is headed straight towards you.


For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.

Romans 10:13



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