Last night Jack, his cousin-dog Sydney, and I were out walking under twinkling stars. The wind was fierce, but the sky clear and the moon bright, coaxing me to put my flashlight away.

When we got to the corner where we had to decide to walk toward the beach or turn away from it, both dogs ran a bit toward, as if to say, “Please?” Although it was after midnight, I gave in, and we headed for the sound of roaring waves. They raced up the hill ahead of me, anticipating happy dances and creek cocktails.

When I got there, they were well into their playtime, romping in the dune grass and rolling down the hills. Crashing waves were iridescent in the moonlight, and the wind was gale-force. I put my hood up to shield my eyes from blowing sand, but it didn’t do much good. In just a few minutes my teeth were gritty, and sand was up my nose. Our visit was brief.

Today the waves were still wild, despite calmer winds. In a massive body of water like Lake Michigan, it takes nearly 24 hours for the water to calm after the winds cease, and my mind wandered to the biblical story of another stormy lake. The Sea of Galilee was known for unexpected storms just like Lake Michigan, and tradition says the Jews shied away from it for that reason.

In the story, it was Jesus who suggested they climb in a boat and head out onto the lake to get away from the ever-present, ever-needy crowds. If the disciples worried about a sudden squall, they kept it to themselves. Jesus, exhausted from non-stop ministry, fell right to sleep in the boat.

Knowing how badly he needed rest, they let him sleep, but eventually the storm they feared blew up, and panic moved them to wake him. He commanded the wind and waves to quit, and afterwards probably resumed napping.

Today while standing at the shoreline, it occurred to me Jesus really performed two miracles that night: halting the wind, and leveling the water, which normally would take a day or so. Looking up the story at home, I noticed something else.

The disciples were afraid of the raging wind and swamping waves, but after Jesus eliminated both, they should have been comforted. But Scripture says they had moved from fearful to terrified. Of what?

Of Jesus! (Mark 4:41)

Though they’d watched him perform wonders before, this time they saw the immensity of his power and that he can use it however he wants. What restrains him from using that power to eliminate every problematic person, place or thing from this world?

Love.

Love for his disciples motivated him to use his power against the storm. Love for us motivates him to refrain from using his power against us.

It’s all about his love.

“One thing God has spoken, two things I have heard: “Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love.” (Psalm 62:11-12a)

For the longest time I didn’t know what the strange looking, igloo-like buildings alongside Chicago expressways were all about. Several years ago I asked Nate if he knew.

“For salt,” he said. “The salt used on streets during the winter is stored there.” That explained the trucks and snowplows lined up outside each building.

Salt is a beautiful thing, forming in crystals made by God’s laws of nature, some so eye-catching they look like valuable art. But salt is more commonly known as a work-horse mineral. Among its uses:

•      Flavoring food
•      Enhancing thyroid function
•      Making ice cream
•      Preserving things
•      Cleansing things
•      Melting ice

That last one is made possible on Chicago roads only because salt is cheap. The earth has a great deal of it, and it’s easy to mine. So it’s shipped from faraway places on barges and trains, and stored in the dome-like buildings along local expressways, then flung on the roads before and during snowstorms.

Scripture actually mentions road salt. In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus said that salt can lose its flavor. His listeners knew the importance of pure salt, not just to enhance food but in reference to temple sacrifices. The Old Testament repeatedly mentions the covenant of salt, the offerings of salt, and the purity of salt.

Jesus’ sermon compares the positive aspects of salt to the way Christians can effectively represent the kingdom of God. And then he gets to the road salt. Apparently if pure salt is mixed with other chemicals, it becomes un-salty. It’s no longer good for use with food or as a sacrifice, or in any other way. It might as well be thrown on the ground and trampled (or driven over). Then he applied this image to believers who leave others with a bad taste in their mouths about him and his kingdom.

When salt is brought to the storage “igloos” in Chicago, it’s sometimes dumped in through a ceiling hole by way of a conveyor belt. Workmen know the exact slope of the natural pile-up of this road salt, which is the same shape of the buildings: an angle of 32 degrees. The entire space can be filled with salt for efficient, maximum storage.

Jesus wants those of us who’ve entrusted our lives to him to be maximizing our influence for him and to be efficient representatives of his ways and his Word. Just like the domes are completely filled with salt, we’re to be fully filled with him, demonstrating how “tasty” the Christian life can be. He wants us to represent him in ways that are uncontaminated by the world and palatable to non-believers.

Instead of being like road salt, useful only to walk on and drive over, we’re to be like table salt, making others thirsty for more.

 “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be… trampled underfoot.”  (Matthew 5:13)