It was midnight when Steve’s phone rang. “Hello, this is Steve. Uh-huh. Alright. I’ll be there right away.”

Steve quickly brushed his teeth, combed his hair, pulled on his shoes, snatched the keys from the hook, kissed me, and was out the door. But before reaching the car, he paused, glanced back at me, and whispered, “Please pray.”

After forty years of ministry, these late-night crisis calls were common occurrences. But tonight’s call left a sick feeling in the bit of my stomach.

We had been ministering to a couple trying to get back on their feet. On this evening, the wife had stepped out to meet up with an old friend when the evening went south. She became the victim of an assault that landed her in the ER.

Much like that night, life can take a quick turn of events, and we find ourselves caught in a flurry of fear and uncertainty. It may include a shocking diagnosis, unexpected job loss, disappointment with your kids, a struggling marriage, or global events that shake us to our core.

Trial and tragedy often move in like a raging storm. When heartache strikes, how we walk through it is a testimony to others of what we believe to be true about God.

I watched as Steve pulled out of the driveway. When all I could see were the car’s tail lights, I closed the front door and made my way to the kitchen. Pray, he said. But where do I begin? My mind was a whirlwind of questions. How can people hurt other people like that? Why is there so much suffering? Will God be able to heal this family?

I don’t know how long I stood motionless on the kitchen floor, physically exhausted and mentally tormented by our world’s brokenness. Steve said to pray, but prayer was not coming quickly.

“Lord,” that was all I could say.

But that one word was a declaration of who I knew God to be. He is Lord (someone having power, authority, or influence; a master or ruler).  “He is my Lord.”

God reminded me of Paul and Silas’s story in Acts 16 as the words escaped my lips. These men were spreading the good news of salvation daily when the storm of persecution struck them. Paul and Silas were beaten, flogged, chained, and thrown into the very belly of prison.

Yet, despite the storm’s fury, they never lost sight of God. They turned that jail cell into a place of worship. They prayed and praised the night away, unmoved by the roaring storm surrounding them. Then, God shook the prison at midnight, releasing them and all the prisoners from bondage.

Taking a cue from Paul and Silas, I began to reflect on all the things I knew to be true about God. He was my savior, redeemer, and friend. When I had nothing, He was my everything. During my darkest nights, He was the light for my next step. I watched Him heal time and again. He wrapped His arms of comfort around me when despair threatened to overtake me.

Wow! What a game-changer! That night, I experienced firsthand that in my weakness, He shows up with strength beyond my comprehension (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

As I replayed my life stories where I had seen God move on my behalf, scriptures and songs flooded my mind. Before I knew it, three hours of praise and worship had passed as I lifted my heart, hands, and voice toward heaven. God shook the doors of my prison cell of fear and brought freedom, revealing this truth- Trials offer opportunities to witness the power of praise.

The wife was released from the hospital that night. They put their home on the market a few months later and left town. We lost track of them, but I always kept the lesson I learned that evening: Praise may not change my circumstance, but it will change how I navigate it.

As I raise my voice to declare who God is, I remind myself that He is God and can be trusted. My praise becomes a surrender of self-reliance and anchoring to God, who alone is my hope in the storms.

Oh, dear friends, we are in a storm. How we navigate these rough waters will stand as a testimony for generations about what we believe about our God.