Chapter 3When Storms Crash the Party

Prayer Post Office is being written in the middle of several storms.

As my family navigates Hurricane Nolo, I am preparing for a heart ablation and a hip replacement.

I am also preparing for cataract surgery. Small print is difficult for me to read, and typing can be a struggle. Even these pages take patience and perseverance. I share that because someone reading may be facing hindrances of their own. My hope is that continuing through mine will encourage you to take your next faithful step too.

Decades ago, after my wife and I returned safely from island-hopping in Hawaii, Hurricane Iniki came crashing into Kauai while Jurassic Park was being filmed there.

Now, all these years later, another storm has entered the story.

I look back with immense gratitude—and forward with the same trust—not because I know how every circumstance will unfold, but because I know Who has carried me before.

PPO is not being written after the storm.

It is being written through it.

That matters.

Because prayer is not merely something we practice once life becomes calm again.

Prayer belongs in the middle of uncertainty.

In changed plans.

In waiting rooms.

In medical procedures.

In travel disruptions.

In celebrations interrupted by weather.

In moments when the future has not yet explained itself.

The Party Crashers

Storms have a way of ignoring our schedules.

They do not consult the calendar.

They do not ask whether the timing is convenient.

They arrive.

Decades ago, Iniki interrupted life in Hawaii.

Years later, Nolo arrived while my family was celebrating my granddaughter's fifteenth birthday.

Their cruise was shortened.

Travel plans changed.

Flights became another matter for prayer.

And then came the message every praying grandfather wanted to receive:

“Hi, thank you for the prayers and for checking on us. All good. Our cruise was cut a day early. But we are all scheduled for flight departure tomorrow. Prayers for our flights. Love you all!”

There it was.

Not a perfect itinerary.

Not an untouched celebration.

But gratitude.

Safety.

Prayer.

Family.

And another reminder that God's presence does not depend upon our plans remaining intact.

Sometimes the itinerary changes.
God's grace does not.

Romans 8:28 Is Not a Denial of the Storm

Romans 8:28 does not ask us to call every circumstance good.

A hurricane is not good because it interrupted someone's vacation.

Pain is not good simply because something meaningful may eventually emerge from it.

Fear does not become good merely because faith meets us there.

The promise is not that everything that happens is good.

The promise is that God is able to work within all things for His purposes.

That distinction protects us from shallow optimism.

Christian hope does not require us to rename suffering.

It invites us to recognize that suffering does not get the final word.

There are circumstances I would never choose.

There are outcomes I cannot control.

There are questions whose answers I do not yet possess.

But I can still ask:

God, what are You doing here?

What are You teaching me?

Where is Your grace showing up?

Whom can I love?

What can I surrender?

What can I learn to trust?

Praise in the Storm

For years, one song has spoken to me especially deeply:

Casting Crowns’ “Praise You in This Storm.”

I love that song.

So does a dear friend of mine who has fought storms of his own.

That shared love has reminded me of something important.

Faith does not praise God because storms are pleasant.

Faith can praise God because He remains God while the storm is raging.

There is a difference.

We do not thank Him for devastation.

We thank Him for presence.

We do not pretend fear is faithlessness.

We bring fear into the presence of the One we trust.

We do not have to enjoy the storm to recognize the Shepherd.

Faith does not praise God for the storm.
Faith learns to praise God in the storm.

The Storm Outside — and the Storm Inside

Weather is not the only kind of storm.

Sometimes the forecast comes from a physician.

Sometimes the disruption is physical.

Sometimes it is financial.

Relational.

Emotional.

Spiritual.

As I write these words, I am not merely remembering storms from decades ago.

I am preparing for medical procedures of my own.

That changes how I write about trust.

It keeps trust from becoming theoretical.

I cannot honestly tell you that I know exactly how every coming day will unfold.

I can tell you something else.

I know Who has carried me before.

That memory matters.

Past faithfulness becomes present encouragement.

Not because yesterday guarantees tomorrow will be easy.

But because yesterday reminds us that God has not suddenly become someone else.

Prayer does not always restore the itinerary.
It restores our orientation.
We remember Who is with us.

Carried Before

That phrase—“Who has carried me before”—has become especially meaningful to me.

It reminds me that some prayers are less about escaping difficulty and more about discovering that we are not walking through it alone.

That truth also became the heart of the Prayer Post Office poem:

Carried and Delivered.

Sometimes we spend so much time wondering whether our prayer has reached Heaven that we fail to notice the grace carrying the person who prayed it.

Perhaps that is one of God's quietest answers.

Not always immediate removal.

Sometimes sustaining presence.

Not always explanation.

Sometimes endurance.

Not always the map.

Sometimes the next faithful step.

Reflection

While the Storm Is Still Moving

It is easy to express gratitude after the danger has passed.

It is harder when the forecast is still changing.

So ask yourself:

What am I grateful for right now—even before I know how this ends?

Who has God placed around me?

What provision have I overlooked?

What past faithfulness can I remember?

What fear do I need to stop carrying alone?

Gratitude does not require pretending everything is fine.

Gratitude says:

Everything may not be fine yet.

But God is still here.

When Even the Landmarks Change

What lasts when even the landmarks change?

My children and granddaughters were in Hawaii celebrating my older granddaughter’s Quinces—her fifteenth-birthday celebration. When Nolo cut their travels short, I thanked God for their safety and for the memories they carried home.

Then came news that Hōlei Sea Arch, a striking 90-foot coastal landmark in Hawaiʻi Volcanoes National Park, had collapsed into the Pacific. Carved by the sea from a lava flow approximately 550 years old, it had disappeared by September 27, 2026.

Thank God, my family arrived home safely on September 27, 2026—the same day by which Hōlei Sea Arch was confirmed to have collapsed. Their safe return gave me another reason to cherish the people I love and thank the One who carried them home.

Something that looked permanent was gone.

Even stone yields to time and the sea. How much more should we treasure the people beside us?

We cannot preserve every place we love. But while we are together, we can make peace, speak love, and give thanks.

A storm reminds me how quickly circumstances can change—and how deeply I need the One I trust through them.

We don’t know when. We know Who.

When the Prayer Comes from a Waiting Room

Where do you turn when the only thing left to do is wait?

Some storms arrive with a diagnosis. Some come as a surgery date, a long recovery, or a pain that does not leave when the appointment ends. And some fall on the one who sits beside the bed, holding the paperwork and the questions, tired in ways no one sees.

A waiting room strips away the schedule. There is little to control and much to wait for. Yet the waiting room is not outside the reach of God’s presence. The patient and the caregiver are both held there, and neither has to pretend to be strong.

The apostle Paul heard this from the Lord Himself: “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9) It is not a promise about how the story ends. It is a promise about Who is present while it is being written.

Today, name one need out loud to God, whether yours or someone else’s. Then name one small, honest way you can receive help or offer it: a meal, a ride, a call, or ten quiet minutes.

A Noble Prayer

Application

Your Turn

Take a page and divide it into three short sections.

Write:

THE STORM

What is happening that you cannot fully control?

THE GRACE

Where can you already see evidence of provision, love, protection, wisdom, help, or God's presence?

THE SURRENDER

What outcome are you trying hardest to control?

Then write one final sentence:

“Lord, I do not know how this will unfold, but I know Who has carried me before.”

Do not rush past that sentence.

Let remembrance become trust.

A Noble Prayer

When Storms Crash the Party