Tale from a Shade-Loving Comfort Queen

 If you ever see me in a shady parking spot going a little Pentecostal, just move along and mind your business.

In Texas, you know you’re smiled on by God if you land that coveted shaded parking spot at H-E-B. What a blessing it is to return to your car and not feel your flesh melt off your bones like the normal hot-car-in-July experience.

When I book a campsite, I always hope for shade. In the summer, I seek it out and pray for a cool breeze like my life depends on it. Shade makes all the difference between a sweat-a-thon and a beautiful day. For me, it’s agony versus ecstasy.

I’ll admit it. I’m a comfort queen.

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Shade in the Bible

Shade is often mentioned in Scripture. But in biblical times, it was more than just comfort. It was life itself. In a hot, dry land, survival could depend on finding shade.

Last year, I attended a Bible study on Jonah by Sandra L. Richter, and I learned so much more about that familiar story. When I think of shade, Jonah’s story always comes to mind.

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Jonah and His Shade

Jonah was not an allegory nor an ordinary prophet. Other than the Old Testament book of Jonah, he’s mentioned in 2 Kings, reinforcing the fact that Jonah was a real man, a big-deal prophet—not an allegory. He was part of Israel’s theocracy.

The Assyrians of Nineveh, on the other hand, were known for their depravity and violence. Archaeologists have even uncovered carvings showing enemies impaled like shish-kabobs. These were the very people Jonah was sent to.

After his famous ocean ordeal, Jonah finally obeyed God and preached repentance to the Ninevites. Then he built himself a shelter in the shade, waiting and watching—hoping they would get what they deserved.

Even after his near-death experience inside what was probably a sperm whale, Jonah still clung to his self-righteous attitude. He wanted justice for Nineveh, not mercy. In his eyes, they didn’t deserve forgiveness.

But God had a different plan. He sent Jonah a “gift”: a fat worm to destroy his shady box seat. Once again, God reminded Jonah who was in control.

And yes—the Ninevites repented. They were saved. Much to Jonah’s disappointment.

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The Lesson of Shade

God used shade—and the lack of it—as a lesson.

And isn’t it interesting that we see a kind forgiving God reach out to Gentile pagans here in the Old Testament book of Jonah? So maybe next time I find that perfect shady parking spot or campsite, I’ll remember the One who created it. And in those times when there is no shade, I’ll remember something far greater:

And I’m not in control—God is.

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Prayer

Lord, thank You for being my shelter and shade in every season. Remind me that comfort comes and goes, but Your mercy never fails. Help me to trust Your control, even when I don’t get what I want. And may I always rejoice when Your grace reaches others—just as it reached me.

Amen.

Glimpses of Power and Glory

What a strange month this has been.

Where is the blazing, sunny, miserable weather we call July in Texas? It seems I’ve spent most of the summer studying radar maps and watching flooding videos. It’s all quite bizarre.

Today, as the deep gray sky covers the sunrise and raindrops fall on my roof, I’m reminded of all the tears shed over massive losses.

Why so much destruction?

I’m amazed at the amount of junk dislodged and driven downstream. Why am I mesmerized by those videos? It’s like staring at a wreck—I can’t seem to look away.

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The Need to Understand

I feel the need to defend my God when I see such overwhelming destruction—destruction He alone could have stopped. I want to explain how He works and why.

But who am I to know the heart of the Creator? Who am I to try to assign simplistic explanations to the mystery of the great I Am?

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A Strange Kind of Comfort

Watching the raw force of water gives me a glimpse of God’s power. This uncontrollable, brown current is enough to bow my prideful knee and stiff-necked head. Awestruck, I realize this is only a fingerprint of His might.

Oddly enough, it comforts me to realize that neither I nor any elected official is in control. My daily worries don’t seem so important in light of that truth. I’m just a blade of grass—here today and gone tomorrow—riding this planet for a limited but unknown number of days.

He designed this planet—its rivers, valleys, and oceans—and then gave us the gift of dominion over it. We were called to care for His creation. How deeply He must love us to entrust such majesty into our hands.

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Look for the Helpers

I was recently reminded of Fred Rogers’ advice: “Look for the helpers.”

When I do, I see God’s compassion at work. Helpers step into chaos, trying to restore normalcy after the floods. It is His Spirit within them that drives them to serve those most devastated by the raging, junk-filled waters.

In moments like these, it’s undeniably clear that God has placed His Spirit in us. We send food, money, and support—often more than the recipients can receive. And somehow, it’s easier to see God in others during these moments.

Maybe it’s because we’ve finally stopped to look.

Maybe it’s because we’re usually too busy to notice.

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A Quiet Challenge

It’s sad that it takes loss and despair to see the Holy Spirit in ourselves and in others. Are we only moved in crisis to be His hands and feet? Or is His Spirit always present—and we just don’t pause to notice?

Must devastation wrench my eyes away from my trivial pursuits? Why don’t I feel this same desire to help the hurting on a sunny day at the beach?

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A Simple Prayer

Lord, help me listen for Your voice when the sun is shining and the flowers are blooming. Give me eyes to see and meet need without the help of 24/7 news of devastation.