When the Storm Changes the Plan

 When the Storm Changes the Plan

      I'm sure that most of us have heard the old timers talk about the good old days when they had to walk twenty miles to school and back, and uphill both times.  Each of us have nostalgic memories of snow storms.  I vividly remember the blizzard of 1996 and I also remember the blizzard of 2016.  Titus was only a few days old and it was nearing Noah's birthday.  It was calling for snow but not the amount that we got. It snowed and blew.  Eventually the snow drifted over the top of our van and the stop sign at the end of our road.  Needlss to say Noah's birthday didn't go was we had planned.

      Snowstorms have a way of reminding us how little control we actually have. One moment, life is moving according to schedule. The next, plans are canceled, routines disrupted, and we’re forced to slow down. While a snowstorm eventually passes, the disruptions of life don’t always follow such a clear timeline, if any seeming timeline at all. Grief, loss, anxiety, illness, burnout, and disappointment often arrive without warning—and they tend to linger.  We often complain about the weather man not getting the forecast right, but it's even harder to forecast when troubles and sorrows will come our way.  

      Scripture tells us, “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps” (Proverbs 16:9). That verse doesn’t criticize planning; it simply acknowledges reality. We plan because we’re human.  Think of the things that we plan.  We make travel plans, retirement plans, wedding plans, school plans, financial plans, etc.  I doubt that many if any of our plans revolve around emergencies and death. And when life takes a turn we never anticipated, the pain we feel is often tied not only to what we’ve lost, but to the future we assumed was secure leaving us with more question marks then periods.

      For some, that loss is obvious—the death of a spouse, a loved one, or a dream that can’t be recovered. For others, it’s quieter: a sense of peace that hasn’t returned, a season that feels heavier than it should, or a constant feeling of being “off” that’s hard to explain. These moments can leave us wondering whether God is distant, disappointed, or even punishing us.  I know for myself personally, I wandered if God heard me.

      Yet Scripture speaks about that fear. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted” (Psalm 34:18). Not rushed. Not impatient. Near. God’s nearness doesn’t always show up as answers or relief, though we wish that it would. Often, it shows up as presence—steady, quiet, and faithful in the middle of the storm. Jesus Himself wept at the tomb of Lazarus, even though resurrection was moments away. God is not threatened by our tears or confused by our questions.  If anything He welcomes our confusion, tears, and lament.  

      The Prohpet Jeremiah wrote in Lamentations a reminder that God “does not willingly afflict or grieve the children of men” (Lamentations 3:33). Not every interruption is correction. Not every storm is discipline. We live in a broken world, and sometimes hardship simply happens. But even there, God is at work—not always changing our circumstances immediately, but shaping us, sustaining us, and walking with us step by step.  He renews our strength and continues to form us into something for His glory

      If your progress right now feels slow or maybe even nonexistent, take heart. Faithfulness is not measured by speed. Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is rest, breathe, and trust God for today alone.  Read that a again and process it. Snowstorms force us to stop. Seasons of loss and disruption often do the same. And God is just as present in the stillness as He is in the movement.

      When the storm changes the plan, it does not cancel God’s purpose. It does not remove His presence. And it does not mean you are walking alone. The roads may feel unclear right now, but the Shepherd has not lost sight of you.