There are times when you just have to go through the storm, taking Him at His word, and trusting that He’s right there with you.
Several years ago, after saying goodbye to my mom, my friend and I started the three-hour drive home. We’d done that trip many times. Off to the north, the sky looked almost black, but we weren’t worried. We’d already seen a few quick showers come and go that day. I put on some light summer music, settled in, and off we went.
As soon as we hit the highway, the wind picked up, hard. It pushed against the car enough to make my friend grip the steering wheel tighter. I told her not to worry; that stretch of road is known for wind shear, and it usually lets up after a few miles.
It didn’t.
The storm got worse. Thunder cracked, rain poured down, and the wind kept howling. I turned off the music; it didn’t fit anymore. We slowed way down because we had to.
We couldn’t see far ahead, and pulling over didn’t feel safe either. We didn’t have the option of stopping for the night. So we prayed for protection and kept going.
What should have been a three-hour trip turned into almost five.
That kind of storm, where you can’t speed up, can’t turn back, and can’t get out of it, sticks with you.
It reminds me of a different kind of storm in John 6. Jesus had been teaching, and at first it probably felt familiar to the disciples. They’d been with Him long enough to think they understood how things worked.
Then He said something that stopped them cold.
He called Himself the Bread of Life. Then He said that unless they ate His flesh and drank His blood, they had no life in them.
That wasn’t just confusing; it was profoundly offensive to Jewish ears. A lot of people walked away that day. They couldn’t reconcile what they heard with what they thought they knew.
It was a storm of a different kind, one that shook their understanding, their expectations, even their trust.
Jesus turned to the twelve and asked, “Do you want to leave too?”
And Peter answered, “Lord, where would we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
That’s the moment. That’s the crossroads.
Following Jesus doesn’t mean avoiding storms. It means sometimes staying in them when everything in you wants out. Circumstances hit, unanswered prayers, disappointment, things that don’t make sense, and you’re left deciding what you actually believe.
You can pull over, turn back, or keep going.
Sometimes, keeping going is the only real option.
If you’ve come this far with Him, where else would you go?
That doesn’t mean it’s easy. It means you trust that He’s still who He says He is, even when the wind hasn’t died down yet.
If you’re in that sort of storm right now, but don’t just grit your teeth and endure it.
Fight for your peace.
Bill Johnson often talks about how he handles those moments; he goes to the Psalms and keeps reading until something grabs hold of his heart. Not as a ritual, but as a way to reconnect with truth when everything feels off.
You can do the same. Keep a few verses close, on your phone, on paper, wherever you’ll reach for them when things get loud. Think of them like an emergency kit for your faith.
Storms don’t last forever.
But while you’re in one, the question still stands:
Are you going to leave?
Or are you going to say, like Peter, there’s no other option but to go forward?
Until Next Week
2026 Katherine Walden
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