We lost power at my house last night. There was a significant thunderstorm with high gusts of wind, and at around 5:15 pm, the power went out. I knew something was up, because our little backstreet was suddenly filled with a steady stream of cars which were diverted from one of the more major thoroughfares nearby. This morning I discovered that a huge tree was blocking the entirety of that major road nearby, and it took some power lines down with it. 

It’s a petty annoyance, that loss of power. 

I had already started cooking my supper , so I wasn’t going to starve to death. My phone didn’t have as much of a charge as I would have liked, so I couldn’t use it as a data hotspot for the computer, nor did I feel like I could livestream the news or a video. But I had a flashlight, and an e-reader with a book on it, and a roof over my head. No A/C, of course, but once the storm blew through, the temperatures had moderated a bit and I could open a few windows for ventilation. I was able to participate in part of a committee meeting on the phone. And I always had other choices available, like coming down to the church and hanging out there, or going to a restaurant for supper. I found the great quiet a soothing companion, since it’s rare for me. 

The book I was reading was a novel, and I was in the midst of a description of the trauma experienced by Iraqi women in one of the many times of internal conflict in that country. Suddenly my loss of electricity didn’t seem as whine-worthy. I had options. Those women did not. I was not under threat of death. Those women were. I had lines of communications to people who could help me if I needed it. Those women were not.

I say all this not to make you feel bad if you have been guilty of complaining in the midst of plenty, as I was for a while last night. I am well aware that the worst thing that ever happened to you may not seem like much to another person, but it’s still the worst thing that could ever happen to you. 

What I do want to urge you to think of, though, is that in the midst of those worst things, we don’t walk it alone. I could text my husband. I could call my neighbor across the street if a tree fell on the house – Brad would know what to do! I could dial 911 on my phone. 

And I could always talk to Jesus.

We tend to think of prayers as the formal things we do on Sunday. But we can be in conversation with Jesus at any time, in any way. Whether it’s a “what the heck!!??!!” directed heavenward, a “help me help me help me” as we hear what the doctor just said, a “where are you because I need you” when the winds are blowing sideways and branches are flying through the air, we can speak silently or aloud, in whatever words are our words, and know that Jesus hears and walks along side us. We may not hear words spoken back to us, but we will sense Jesus’ presence in subtle ways, and there may be a someone who was nudged by the Holy Spirit to reach out to us in that hard moment. 

The power is still out. It’s not the end of the world, it’s a minor inconvenience. I hope it’ll be back on when I go home tonight. Others around me near and far are suffering much worse things. But just knowing that I can speak quietly to Jesus and sense his comfort even in the midst of troubles, not in formal “thee’s and thou’s” but in my own words, encourages me to keep that conversation with Jesus going, not only in times of trouble but in better times.

Because the real power is not in the electric line, it’s in the relationship with the One who is power and light.

Be blessed and be a blessing,

Mary+