In a thunderstorm
Off-topic note: the website I’ve used for royalty free images since I started this blog is currently down. This will make it look like a) there should be a photo, but it never loads, and b) like this site is taking forever to load. They do expect a fix to be in place before too many more days pass. Until then, my apologies.
I’m watching a thunderstorm that feels like it’s right on top of my head.
It’s fairly spectacular. I wish I could put into words just how small I feel when this kind of a storm is going on. It’s huge, loud, and powerful.
Six foot two, a few too many pounds… I got nothing on this. It makes me think of my good friend (and my son’s namesake) Luke. This is the ultimate opportunity to yell respect me in a futile manner.
You see, no matter what I do, I can’t change this thunderstorm. It’s got me beat. I can run out there this minute and scream at the sky, tell it to stop, whatever I happen to think of — it will simply soak me. It is unmovable. I get cold and I hate being wet, so I’m pretty far from immovable. I’m a wimp.
The only experience I can compare it to is standing next to a helicopter carrier belonging to Her Majesty’s Royal Canadian Navy. That ship was huge. I was 13 or 14 years old. In a battle of power, I’d take the carrier.
Sometimes a little reminder of powerlessness can be good for you.
So then how cool is this? “And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, ‘Save us, Lord; we are perishing.’ And he said to them, ‘Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?’ Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. And the men marveled, saying, ‘What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?’” (Matthew 8:24-27, ESV).