The Master of the Wind

As we gathered in the inner cabin to begin sundown worship, I scrambled up into the loft, perching myself precariously on the tilted window ledge. Flashlights turned off one by one, and soon the only light came from the glow of the wood stove and the moonlight dimly streaming through the three dusty windows lining the crooked roof. I loved the way the heat vibrated from the well-stocked stove, making me feel warm and safe, but the cramped room was quickly becoming stuffy. Looking for relief from the sauna-like atmosphere, I stuck my head halfway out the window.

As I sucked in the crisp fresh air, I couldn't help but stare at the scene before me. The moon outlined the snow-covered boulder field, and the tall trees surrounding the huge rocks framed the rocky mountain further off in the distance. It was breathtakingly beautiful. But at the same time, it sent a shiver of fear down my back. The darkness was everywhere, leaving shadows for unknown things to creep around in. A chill went through me as the wind licked at my back.

 Quickly, I ducked back into the safety of the warm cabin. But compared to where I had just come from, the air was too shallow to make breathing possible. So soon I found myself back where I had been, my head just enough outside the window to be able to breathe the fresh air, but with one ear inside so that I could hear Mirjam sharing her worship thought.

This pattern of in-and-out was repeated several times. I found the outside too windy and dark, but the inside too hot and stuffy. Frustrated with myself for not being able to find a temperature balance, I abandoned all attempts at listening to the worship going on below me and stuck my whole head out into the night.

The sound of the wind whistling through the trees filled my ears, and as I listened a song came into my head.


I know the Master of the wind.
I know the Maker of the rain.
He can calm a storm, make the sun shine again.
I know the Master of the wind.


And then it hit me.

Too often I live life my way, locking myself into my little warm comfort box. But being one who doesn't like too much heat (or being in confined spaces, for that matter), I cannot stay in it long. I peek my head halfway out, longing for fresh air. But while I breathe in the wonderful air, I look around at the unknown and get scared. Fear of failure and disappointment overwhelm me. This wind whips at me and I retreat hastily back into my comfort box.

But, after tasting the fresh air outside of the box, I cannot be satisfied with the stale, shallow air inside. Soon, I find myself sneaking a small little venture out into the unknown, only to retreat once again to my safe haven. This pattern continues as I try to find the balance between the fresh air of Christ and my comfort zone. But it cannot be found.

The answer to my dilemma is in those song lyrics. Sitting there on the fence between hot and cold, the main phrase of the chorus rang in my head.

I know the Master of the wind.


 I don't have to be afraid of the unknown, for God himself shapes it. But in order to set God as the Master of my life, I have to let go of my comfort box and step out completely into the wind. It is then, and only then, that I can live my life fully for Christ.