Thunder

A clap of thunder overhead and I was awake, haring through the house pulling plugs on the phones and computer. Been there, done that, and it was very expensive. And frustrating. And time-consuming.

But now the day has started, there is work to be done and everything is plugged in again. Ominously, in the distance, thunder still rumbles and grumbles on.

What should be our reaction when the world grumbles and groans as it is right now? We don’t have an option to pull the plug until it passes. We have to keep plugged in. 

We are in challenging times, when jaw-dropping statements don’t disqualify from running for the presidency, when threats and counter-threats, sanctions and wars and refugees and domestic terrorism are in the news every day. When leaders take us into uncharted territory and then resign, one after the other, and there is a sense of malaise and lostness. A sense that we are wandering in the desert.

My people die for lack of vision, God says in the Bible. The rain is pounding down now, and the stage is set for God’s men and women to step up, full of vision, full of hope, full of the Holy Spirit. Come on, Church. Don’t lose your nerve now.

Thunder I couldn't miss

It was forecast – but then the forecast is so frequently wrong. We went to bed last night and left the telephones and computer plugged in. 

Four a.m. and I found myself aware of rolling thunder rumbling in the distance. It didn’t stay in the distance for long, though, and Don and I soon pinged out of bed and were scampering round the house pulling plugs. We’ve been burned too many times – or rather, our motherboard has, and our telephones. The situation could have soon deteriorated into farce of the Fawlty Towers variety, as we have some B&B guests in at the moment who might have been surprised to encounter either of us at that time of morning. You have to laugh.

Natural phenomena are a good reality check when we start to take ourselves and our anxieties too seriously. They remind us of our own smallness, our own insignificance and our own powerlessness. We may try to minimise our vulnerability to nature’s wrath but in the end there is really no escape. It’s still raining this morning, but I can see a break in the clouds. 

God uses all sorts of things to bring us back to himself, to break into our circularly selfish thought patterns and remind us of who he is, and who we are.  In a book in the Old Testament, Hosea, God promises that he will ‘lead Israel into the desert and speak tenderly to her there’. (Hosea 2:14) 

I’ve been led into that desert in the past. My life choices weren’t great, and eventually I found myself in a desert, where homesickness and loneliness were overwhelming. But in that desert, I finally heard God’s tender voice speaking to me. 

He may speak in a clap of thunder, or he may speak words into a quiet heart, but the truth is that God does speak, and his words are loving and tender, calling us home to him.

It’s amazing.