faith – Page 3 – Michele Huey

. . . a crown of beauty instead of ashes . . . –Isaiah 61:3 NIV

At 8:32 a.m. on May 18, 1980, Mount St. Helens erupted in a violent blast that blew out the north side of the mountain. Everything within eight miles—man, beast, and vegetation—met with instant death and destruction. Shock waves leveled everything within their path, including centuries-old trees, for another 19 miles. Beyond that, the trees that remained were nothing more than standing matchsticks, seared of leaves and life.

Fifty-seven people lost their lives in what was the most destructive volcanic eruption in U.S. history. Miles of roads and railroad tracks were destroyed. Ash spewed 12 miles high, then mushroomed out, eventually dumping an estimated 500 million tons in 11 states and five Canadian provinces.

The blast, and the accompanying earthquake, altered the landscape and forever changed the ecosystem.

In July Dean and I visited the Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument. We toured the museum, viewed displays and read placards, listened to an energetic ranger give an animated talk, and sat through a jaw-dropping video that captured the lateral blast.

We stood, awestruck, as we gazed at what was once, at 4,400 feet above sea level, the fifth highest peak in the state of Washington.

Today the north face of Mount St. Helens, which lost 1,300 feet in elevation in the blast, is one gigantic crater, the area around it a moonscape, gray and lifeless. Sun-bleached tree trunks are strewn over the ash-dotted hillsides surrounding the volcano.

But the place is anything but dead.

Prairie lupine and other wildflowers bob their colorful petals above the green meadow grass. We watched elk graze in the North Fork Toutle River Valley, where patches of trees are making a comeback.

Nothing has been planted, at least not intentionally. After the initial cleanup following the eruption, the area was left to nature. Within a month, avalanche lilies poked their heads through ash deposits 10 miles away.

One of the documentaries we viewed was titled, “Eternal cycle of destruction and renewal.”

“Where humans see catastrophe,” the narrator said, “nature sees opportunity.”

How true. The more I learn about the eruption and how the area is naturally recovering, the more I am in awe of nature—and the One who created it.

Out of destruction came new life—not the same as before, but life nevertheless. Plants grew that couldn’t have thrived in the shadow of the forest. The nutrients in the volcanic ash allowed different species of plants to grow. A new kind of beauty emerged from and because of the ashes.

As I gazed at the prairie lupine in the meadows and the splashes of red, orange, yellow, and white swaying in the summer breeze on nature’s palette, a phrase from Isaiah came to mind: “a crown of beauty for ashes.”

There are times our lives are rocked to the core. Our very foundations are shaken. That with which we’re familiar—comfortingly familiar—is blasted away. A gaping, colorless void replaces the mount where our dreams once reached for the sky.

The landscape of our lives is forever changed. Fallout obscures our vision, clogs our breathing, snuffs out our hopes. We will never be the same.

But all is not lost. For out the ashes will come new life. Out of destruction renewal.

For where we see catastrophe, God sees opportunity—to stretch us, transform us, change our direction, grow our faith, give us a life we could never have imagined before. A life resplendent with new color, new dreams, new hope.

If God so cared about nature that He placed seeds of renewal in what appears to be total destruction, will He not care for you?

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?” Jesus says in Matthew 10:29–31. “Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth much more than many sparrows.”

Thank You that what I view as the end is not the end, O Lord, but really a new beginning. Amen.

Read and meditate on Psalm 46

Your Father knows what you need before you ask him. —Matthew 6:8 NIV

I called it my “Baker’s Dozen.”

I’d grown weary of praying for the same things—some for years—over and over and hearing not even a whisper of an answer. What was I supposed to do? Keep praying? Give up? I felt stuck in the Valley of Wait.

It wasn’t like I was asking for a million dollars. Things were getting old and needed replaced—like the roof, the pickup (our only vehicle), and the redneck porch—I mean, how many times can we build a deck using wooden pallets? The heating oil was getting low, I needed a new winter coat, and the paint on the kitchen floor, actually the subfloor, was chipped and stained and hard to keep clean. The throw rugs I used to cover it were showing their age (37 years). I didn’t even want to think about the aging equipment in my writing room.

So one morning during my quiet time I decided to take God at His Word. After all, doesn’t He tell us in His Word that He’ll supply all our needs? Don’t get me into the “Wants versus Needs” debate. I refuse to analyze to death a simple thing like a prayer request. Either God is Who He says He is or He isn’t. Either His Word is true or it isn’t. I chose to believe the former in both cases.

So I opened my journal and printed across the top of a blank left page “Needs.” Next I listed all that I’d been praying for. The list numbered 13. On some of the items I gave God a deadline. On the opposite page, I wrote “When and How God Provided” and numbered the lines from 1 to 13. This was my Jehovah Jireh page (see Genesis 22:14). Jehovah Jireh, or YHWH Yireh, translates “The LORD Will Provide” and means “God who will provide all of your needs.”

I rewrote the list on a sheet of paper, folded it up, put it in a glass candle dish, and set a match to it. No, I wasn’t throwing a hissy fit. In the Bible, things that were given, or dedicated, to God, were burned.

Then I waited. I refused to fret. I’d put the list in God’s hands, and He would take care of it. Period.

Eight months later, six of the requests had been answered. But God gives what we don’t ask for, too, and provides for needs we don’t even know we have. It just so happened that the payment I received for a writing assignment was enough to purchase a new laptop, printer, and external hard drive. No sooner had I copied all my files from the old laptop to the external hard drive when the old laptop gave up the ghost. When I first compiled my Baker’s Dozen, I hadn’t a clue. But God knew.

Five years later only one space remained on the “provided” page. I had no doubt that would be filled too.

If you don’t already, keep a Baker’s Dozen list and mark how and when God answers. You’ll be delighted and often surprised the way Your Father provides.

Jehovah Jireh, thank you for meeting all my needs. Amen.

Read and reflect on Matthew 7:7-11.

Additional Scripture to savor: Philippians 4:19, 2 Corinthians 9:6–11, Matthew 6:25–34, Luke 18:1, Malachi 3:10

Michele Huey

Category: faith

Beyond the Loss

My Baker’s Dozen

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