February 19, the kind of cold that kills. He sends out his command to the earth,

his word runs swiftly, Psalm 147, 15. Tonight it will be 40 degrees warmer in our kitchen freezer

than it is outside here in Minneapolis. The high temperature tomorrow will be five degrees below zero

Fahrenheit. We receive this from the Lord's hand. He sends out his command to the earth,

his word runs swiftly, he gives snow like wool, he scatters frost like ashes, he hurls down the

crystals of ice like crumbs who can stand before his cold. He sends out his word and melts them,

he makes his winds blow and the waters flow. Psalm 147, 15 through 18. This is the kind of cold

you do not play with, it kills. When I came to Minnesota from South Carolina, I dressed for it,

but I did not prepare life-saving support in my car in case of a breakdown. One Sunday night,

although I home from church in this kind of cold, my car died. This was before cell phones.

I had a wife and two small children in the car, there was no one on the road, I suddenly realized

this is dangerous. Soon it was very dangerous. No one came. I saw in the distance through a fence,

a house. I am the father, this is my job. I climbed the fence, ran to the house and knocked on the

door. They were home. I explained that I had a wife and two small children in the car and asked if

they would let us in. They did. This is the kind of cold you do not play with.

It is one more way God says, whether hot or cold, high or deep, sharp or blunt,

loud or quiet, bright or dark, don't toy with me. I am God.

I made all things. They speak of me, just like the warm summer breezes do, and the gentle rains,

and the soft moonlit nights, and the lapping of the lakeside, and lilies of the field,

and the birds of the air. There is a word for us in this cold.

May the Lord give us skin to feel and ears to hear.