We have some colloquialisms in the South, and “hunker down” is one of them. It means get out of the way and brace yourself, kind of like this armadillo is supposed to do when danger draws near. Unfortunately, he doesn’t. I mean, God made that armor to protect him, right? But I’ve never seen one curl up to protect himself when I happened to hike too close. Instead, he would panic, jump high in the air, and occasionally run directly toward the perceived danger—which was me. The highways in Missouri and most other southern states are littered with armadillos that reacted badly to threats, especially when those threats were semi-trucks. Speaking of danger, Mel and I grew up in Tornado Alley, so we learned early how to hunker down in the root cellar during the storms. I’m so glad we don’t have to depend on root cellars these days, because they were always creepy and dark and filled with spiders and webs and centipedes and who knew what else—probably snakes crawling around or swimming in the water that seeped in from the storm. I was more afraid of the cellar than I was the tornado. A couple of decades ago our small town in Southwest Missouri was blown away by a tornado. Our house didn’t take a hit, but three blocks from there everything was destroyed. It was a shocking night for a lot of people because that tornado stayed on the ground for many miles. We weren’t home at the time, because it happened on a Sunday evening, and we were five miles southeast in church. We did, however, see the tornado as it made its way past to do more damage farther northeast, where our friends Deb and Les huddled under their dining room table in their farm home. They lived through the tornado because they were hunkered down. The damage to their place was extensive, but they were spared because they knew how to get out of the way. It took a long time to clean up the mess, but they still farm that same land and live in that rebuilt house. You might have encountered some storms in your life. Some of them could be from the weather, and some could be more spiritually motivated. Often it’s the spiritual storms that cause the most damage. Human interaction can often cause the most lasting harm, especially if you attempt to face it down on your own. Have you ever become embroiled in a personal conflict and allowed your emotions to control your tongue? I have. My tongue can lay waste and cause more destruction than an F-5 tornado if I’m not careful. I’m still learning to view those conflicts the way I would view a tornado—danger. I’m learning the hard way to pinpoint the problem, then keep my mouth shut, get away, hunker down and pray. If I can allow God to control my tongue—and control the situation—I’m so much better off. He knows how to handle these storms. I do not. Next time you find yourself in a personal conflict, don’t try to face it on your own. You have a much better protection than that armadillo ever did, and God is far more powerful than any tornado shelter, especially a creepy root cellar. If you find yourself getting drawn up into a spiritual storm, just get away, hunker down and pray. God still answers prayers. He is our firm foundation. |