God, After the Storm

Why I don't want to be a Crisis-mode Christian

We’ve all been there. A family emergency. A difficult conversation. A mountain of responsibility that feels too heavy to carry. Moments when we find ourselves desperate for help and desperate for God.

In those moments, our prayers (if we can even get the words out) become more frequent and more raw. We say things like "I give everyone and everything to You," sometimes over and over, just to keep standing under the weight of it all.

Sometimes, God meets us right there in the eye of the storm. He gives a peace that doesn’t make sense and melts circumstances. But if that hasn’t been your experience yet, I understand that too. I’ve had plenty of moments when I’ve wondered where God was in the middle of my chaos.

Still, I’ve tasted enough of those moments to know they’re real. Even if they don’t always come when or how we expect.

There have been seasons in my life — stressful days at work, challenging conversations, overwhelming situations — when I’ve been deeply aware of God’s presence. Times when I’ve leaned in, prayed constantly, and felt His peace, His joy, and even His patience carrying me through the day like a lifeline.

But here’s what I’ve noticed: when the storm passes, when the meeting ends and the crisis subsides, something in me shifts.

It’s subtle at first. The urgent prayers fade. The surrendered posture relaxes. The "leaned in" connection loosens. Not because I stopped loving God—but because, subconsciously, I breathed a sigh of relief: I made it through. I don’t need to be so dependent now.

And that, I’m realizing, is where I miss the point completely.

It’s like I treat God as a spiritual fire extinguisher—there for emergencies but put away once the flames are gone. But God isn’t just a problem-solver; He’s a Presence. He’s not only a refuge in the storm; He’s the calm that follows.

And He longs to be with us always—not just when we're desperate, but when life is peaceful, too.

This concept reminds me of Elijah, who, after facing down the prophets of Baal and calling down fire from heaven, runs for his life and collapses under the weight of it all. But God doesn’t meet him in the wind, the earthquake, or the firestorm. He meets him in a gentle whisper when all is quiet (1 Kings 19:11-12).

Sometimes, I think I’m looking for God only in the storm moments. Maybe what I really need is to listen for His whisper in the stillness that follows.

If I had to guess what the Holy Spirit would be whispering to me during those moments, it's this:

"No, Nick, don’t lean out now. Lean back in. You abide in Me so beautifully when you’re facing a challenge, but I don’t want our connection to be conditional. I want you to hunger for Me in every season. I want you to seek peace, cultivate patience, and experience joy—not just when you feel like you need it, but because I am always here. Because I want to walk with you—storm or stillness."

It's a convicting thought.

What would my life look like if I stayed “leaned in” every day, not just when I’m overwhelmed?

What if I sought His presence just as much in the ordinary as I do in the urgent?

What if faith wasn’t a life raft I reach for when seas get rough, but the very air I breathe—essential, constant, life-giving no matter the weather?

This way of thinking (and living) takes a shift in mindset. A conscious choice to seek God even when everything seems fine. To pray when the pressure’s off. To surrender when life is smooth. To abide out of desire, not just desperation.

A few years ago, I heard a phrase that stuck with me: “You don’t get to skip the miles.”

You don’t get to fast-forward through the things that are hard and formative. You walk through them, and God walks with you. The goal isn't just to survive the storm. It's to grow in intimacy with God through every circumstance.

Because God isn’t just waiting for us in the storm.

He's waiting for us in the stillness, too. And that’s where the real transformation happens. That’s where we learn to live, love, and labor in step with Him every day, in every moment.

Because that’s what we were Made for.