The night was long and cold. Wind and rain battered the house, trying to find a crack or a hole or some other weak point so that it could get at me. I was safe however, wrapped in a thick, warm quilt and protected by a structure which had withstood many such storms. “I know how to handle this” the old house whispered between gusts that shook the building and rattled the windows. “Rest in my protection.”
That is how it is with God. Storms come and batter me, trying to vent their wrath on my vulnerable self. But God, like a strong house and a warm, comfortable quilt, guarantees me rest if I will only accept it.