And all I heard was noise

When I was learning to drive, I had a driving teacher with a very dry sense of humor. He had a handful of favorite sayings, along with a very distinctive way of saying them. One of them was, “Check your mirrors. See the big picture.” He always had a pen in hand, with which he would tap the rearview mirror and point to the side mirrors as he imparted this wisdom to us.

He also had this thing about green lights that had been green for a while. He would call out, “Stale green light! Hover your foot over the brake, just in case.” To this day, I live in terror of stale green lights. Well, not terror exactly, but you can be sure my middle-aged foot still hovers over the brake as I poke through intersections with stale green lights. 

I recently saw a glorious picture of Tuesday night’s storm over the reservoir. The clouds appear dark and ominous while multiple bolts of lightning in all their splendor reach down like bony electric fingers from cloud to water. It is a breathtaking photo, the light playing off the water, along with the dark, producing nothing less than awe.

And do you know my first thought? And all I heard was noise. I was at home, mere miles from where this picture was taken, hiding out in my room with candles on because this powerful storm had knocked out our electricity. 

Hours later, after non-stop thunder and lightning, I was even less amazed by the storm. I was tired. I was getting a headache. And I couldn’t, for the life of me, get to sleep. And all I heard was noise.

Yet when I looked at that picture, I saw beauty. Pure, life-giving beauty. All I heard and experienced at the time was ear-splitting noise, fatigue, and annoyance. Yes, we needed rain, but did we need a night full of loud storms? 

We did get a night full of storms, but it turns out, we also got a night full of beauty for those who knew how to look for it. Perhaps it’s one of those things that doesn’t seem at all beautiful at the time, but once we can step back a moment and distance ourselves from the trauma of it all, we are given eyes to see the beauty. Not that we discount the pain or the stress, but we are able to see the bigger picture.

I think we can characterize these past few months as one storm following on the wings of another. These storms have shaken us. These storms have confined us. That’s why I have taken particular comfort in Psalm 18:

I love you, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. 

I call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies. The cords of death encompassed me; the torrents of destruction assailed me; the cords of Sheol entangled me; the snares of death confronted me.

In my distress I called upon the Lord; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears. 

Then the earth reeled and rocked; the foundations also of the mountains trembled and quaked, because he was angry. Smoke went up from his nostrils, and devouring fire from his mouth; glowing coals flamed forth from him. 

He bowed the heavens and came down; thick darkness was under his feet. He rode on a cherub and flew; he came swiftly on the wings of the wind. He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him, thick clouds dark with water. 

Out of the brightness before him hailstones and coals of fire broke through his clouds. The Lord also thundered in the heavens, and the Most High uttered his voice, hailstones and coals of fire. 

And he sent out his arrows and scattered them; he flashed forth lightnings and routed them. Then the channels of the sea were seen, and the foundation of the world were laid bare at your rebuke, O Lord, at the blast of the breath of your nostrils. 

He sent from on high, he took me; he drew me out of many waters. He rescued me from my strong enemy and from those who hated me, for they were too mighty for me. They confronted me in the day of my calamity, but the Lord was my support. He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me.

. . . . For it is you who light my lamp; the Lord my God lightens my darkness. For by you I can run against a troop, and by my God I can leap over a wall. This God – his way is perfect; the word of the Lord proves true; he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him.

For who is God, but the Lord? And who is a rock, except our God? The God who equipped me with strength and made my way blameless. He made my feet like the feet of a deer and set me secure on the heights. 

He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze. You have given me the shield of your salvation, and your right hand supported me, and your gentleness made me great. You gave a wide place for my steps under me, and my feet did not slip. . . .

The Lord lives, and blessed be my rock, and exalted be the God of my salvation . . . .

This is one of those big-picture moments, here reading this Psalm. We can see our own distress, remember it rather clearly actually, but we’re also reminded of the mighty God we serve – His strength, His competence, His righteousness, and also, His gentleness that makes us great. 

Yes, there will be (perhaps many) times where all we hear is the noise of it all. All we feel is confused, overwhelmed, fatigued, anxious. But in Scripture, we have the opportunity to see so many times where God has been working on something truly beautiful, even in the midst of the mess. Even in the midst of the noise. And we can know that even though right now, all we hear is noise, in God’s timing, we will see the beauty He has been working through it all.