Baby it's cold outside....

I’m sitting at my kitchen table this cold Sunday morning – missing the warmth of the Sanctuary of my church. The ice storm crept into the area Friday evening, a mild mist of crystals slowing drifting across the landscape, covering absolutely everything. When we awoke on Saturday morning, the widows cast a hazy glow into our home. Looking outside the milky white light seemed to engulf everything in sight. It was a while before I ventured out to get the newspaper. Crunching and sliding slowly across the yard I carefully bent to pick up the plastic wrapped bundle. However, it too was frozen in place, coated by a shimmering layer of ice. I had to kick it free.
Walking back to the house I noticed the children’s faces grinning at me from the satellite windows on either side of the front door. I quickly made ice balls to toss in their direction. They were overcome with glee. Of course, I had to make an extra ball of ice to carry inside for their inspection.
All day we huddled together inside the warmth of our home, locked away from the cold just outside. Games were played, television – usually off in our home – was tuned to the weather reports, all the while the icy rain continued to slowly fall outside. It was midnight when we lost power. An eerie silence enveloped our house. Usually there is constant noise from my son’s air purifier, the heat cycling off and on, and the deep breathing of the sleeping family. But in the wee hours of the morning all that could be heard was the occasional pop and crash from branches breaking and falling to the frozen earth and, from the basement an intermittent chirp from the cordless phone.
My son waked up a few times, crying in the deep darkness of his room. A bit of snuggling and he was back to a peaceful sleep in the cold blackness.
The morning light came quickly. I was jolted into consciousness by the children jostling to the windows to see the icy white and the broken trees outside. My wife was warning them to put on their robes – it was only 60 degrees in the house. I stumbled downstairs, longing for a hot cup of coffee - alas, no power, no coffee. After waking a bit, I decided my new and yet unused Esbit camping stove could heat water with minimal effort! I could then use our French press to make some decent coffee on this cold morning. However, by the time I found the stove in the basement closet (with the help of a flashlight), brought it upstairs, the power flickered a few times, and then stayed on. Cést la vie! My wife chucked as she turned on the coffee pot.
We still had not received a call from anyone at church letting us know if services had been canceled for today. I was scheduled to teach adult bible study. Since the power was back on I was able to check websites of television stations. However, our church was not listed on any of them. After scanning the news for closings, we did get a phone call letting us know that indeed services were cancelled for today.
Now late morning, the ice seems to have melted from the driveway. Though the rain and ice has stopped falling from the sky, droplets of melting ice are falling from the trees. There continues to be an eerie stillness outside, as families remain huddled in their homes away from the cold. As I reflect, it seems to me that often our lives are much like this storm. The cold creeps in, slowly covering everything with an icy film. Fascinating and beautiful at first, before long we are immobilized by the cold, frozen within our beliefs, doubts, prejudices, views, narrow understandings, or even our laziness. Often we do not realize our condition until it is too late. The damage has been done. We find we have become prisoners within our own souls, our own homes, our own families. The world looks to be a scary place. And it’s cold. The cold runs so deep that it creeps into our own safe little world we have built. It comes into the walls, overcoming us until we have become the very thing we fear. The very thing that once fascinated us with its mystery has now captured us in its icy, deadly grasp. Soon we find ourselves to be buried beneath it all and we cannot find a way out. So we wait. We wait for someone to save us. We wait for the ice to melt away. We long for what used to be. We wish “we didn’t know now what we didn’t know then,” to quote REM.
In moments of clarity, we realize that we cannot escape our icy world on our own. We need others to help us. We need different perspectives. We need reality. We need to surround ourselves with those people, places and things we most fear. When we do, the ice will begin to melt. Our souls will begin to thaw. And in the warmth of community we can slowly be made new again.
But it takes time. And the damage of the storm takes a while to heal. And often what was broken cannot be mended – scars remain.
If we don’t keep a diverse community surrounding us and our souls bound to Jesus we are in danger of the frost slowly creeping in again, filling us with that dreaded fog, immobilizing us with that think coating of icy indifference that seems to cover the world these days – even the church seems to be frozen these days. The prophetic voices of peace have gotten lost. When voices do cry out it seems the criers are but caricatures of prophets of yore – MLK, JFK, and JC. I wonder why. I know there are those crying out for justice and peace. Is it that they are not heard because those who tell the stories don’t want their message to get out? Or is it that we as a society don’t want to hear what these prophets have to say? Perhaps we are living in an ice age, where all are frozen and the truth cannot get through the think layer of ice covering society and our souls. I’m praying for a warm spring and a quick thaw – at least within my own soul. Perhaps then, the warmth within me can warm those around me with the gospel of truth. Eventually the world will begin to thaw, community will grow and the kingdom of God will come to pass “on earth as it is in heaven.” That is my prayer this chilly morn….