There are snowstorms. There are hailstorms. There are rainstorms. And there are doubtstorms. Every so often a doubtstorm rolls into my life, bringing with it a flurry of questions and gale-force winds of fear. And, soon after it comes, a light shines through it. God’s lights in our dark nights are as numerous as the stars, if only we’ll look for them. When Larry Brown was the coach of the San Antonio Spurs, he once spent an afternoon at a local men’s store, signing autographs. He was scheduled to spend two hours, but ended up spending three. Pencil-and- pad-toting kids besieged the place, asking him questions and shaking his hand. When he was finally able to slip out, he climbed into his car, only to notice a touching sight. A late-arriving youngster pedaled up, jumped off his bike, and ran to the window to see if the coach was still in the store. When he saw he wasn’t, he turned slowly and sadly, walked over to his bike, and began to ride off. Coach Brown turned off the ignition, climbed out of the car, and walked over to the boy. They chatted a few minutes, went next door to a drugstore, sat down at a table, and had a soft drink. No reporters were near. No cameras were on. As far as these two knew, no one knew. I’m sure Larry Brown had other things to do that afternoon. No doubt he had other appointments to keep. But it’s doubtful that anything he might have done that afternoon was more important than what he did. In a world of big-bucked, high-glossed professional sports, it did me good to hear of one coach who is still a coach at heart. Hearing what he did was enough to blow away any lingering clouds of doubt and to leave me warmed by God’s light … his gentle light. Gentle lights. God’s solutions for doubtstorms. Not thunderbolts. Not explosions of light. Just gentle lights. Visible evidence of the invisible hand. (from “Eye of The Storm” by Max Lucado)