This is Max Locato.

When I was six years old, my dad let me stay up with the rest of the family and watch the movie The Wolfman.

Boy, did he regret that decision?

I was convinced that the wolf man spent each night prowling

our den. More than once, I retreated to my father's bedroom and awoke him.

He would then climb out of bed, arm himself with superhuman courage,

and escort me through the valley of the shadow of death and pour me a glass of milk.

Might it be that God views our storms the way my father viewed my wolf man angst?

He handles the great quaking with great calm and the disciples are

left wondering, what kind of man is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him. What kind of man indeed?