It was 1995. We sat huddled on the couch, Anna and I, knees to our chest, as the storm raged over and around us. I vividly remember the overwhelming sense of fear, coupled with an incredible feeling of awe which, powerful as it was at the time, didn’t quite balance out the terror I felt. I put on a brave face though, well at least I tried to, as the space around us flashed and rumbled, with no seperation between the forks of light and the angry sounds they made as they thundered their way between the heavens and earth. Every hair on my body stood on end, the air was so charged with electricity. Even if I screwed my eyes shut I still felt the storm and it’s power. It was the most incredible moment of my life. Nothing has ever made me feel so small, and humble, and ineffectual.
There’s always been a small part of me that’s been terrified by storms. I’d be drawn to them out of curiousity, and a sense of wonder, sitting with my face pressed to the window as the night sky lit up around me. But, at the same time, I had to force myself to watch. I had to overcome my desire to run. And hide. But in Papua New Guinea, in 1995, there was nowhere to run to. Or hide. Though they weren’t often bad as this particular one, they were as regular a part of life as flicking the tv on in the evening. Or running to the shops for milk. Or going to the gardens to pick a pineapple for dessert. Splitting a coconut for it’s sweet, cool water. It was a part of life. And I never quite got used to it in the 20 months I was there.
But, oddly enough, I miss it now. The fierceness. The raw, unadulterated power. The feeling of being so small, humble, and ineffectual.
Last night, though, it was near again. That feeling. We had one of the biggest, craziest displays of lightening I’ve seen here in Melbourne. While not immediately overhead, it was all around. Whichever direction I turned I was bound to catch a glimpse of it. If I closed my eyes, my eyelids would still flicker as the night around me became day, in frequent but random bursts. It took me straight back to Papua New Guinea, and to that sofa. And to a passage in the Bible that I’d read, perhaps for the first time, once that storm had passed. I am often reminded of it, as often as we have storms at least, and am humbled. Yes, I feel small and ineffectual. But never insignificant. That’s what humbles me. I am part of this incredible world that God created, and therefore I have worth. Undeniable and indefinable worth.
“Consider: God is so great that we cannot know him; the number of his years is past searching out. He draws up drops of water from the sea and distils rain from the flood; the rain-clouds pour down in torrents, they descend in showers on the ground; thus he sustains the nations and provides food in plenty.
Can anyone read the secret of the billowing clouds, spread like a carpet under his pavilion? See how he scatters his light about him, and its rays cover the sea. He charges the thunderbolts with flame and launches them straight at the mark; in his anger he calls up the tempest, and the thunder is the herald of its coming.
This too makes my heart beat wildly and start from its place. Just listen to the thunder of God’s voice, the rumbling of his utterance! Under the vault of heaven he lets it roll, and his lightning flashes to the ends of the earth. There follows a sound, a roaring as he thunders with majestic voice. At God’s command wonderful things come to pass; great deeds beyond our knowledge are done by him. For he says to the snow, ‘Fall over the earth’; to the rainstorms he says ‘Be violent,’ and at his voice the rains pour down unchecked. He shuts everyone fast indoors, and all whom he has made are quiet; beasts withdraw into their lairs and take cover in their dens. The hurricane bursts from its prison, and the rain-winds bring bitter cold. By the breath of God the ice is formed, and the wide waters are frozen hard. He hurls lightning from the dense clouds, and the clouds spread his light, as they travel round in their courses, directed by his guiding hand to do his bidding all over the habitable world; whether for punishment or for love he brings them forth.
Teach us then what to say to him; for all is dark, and we cannot marshal our thoughts. Can anyone dictate to God when he is to speak, or command him to make proclamation? At one moment the light is not seen, being overcast with cloud; then the wind passes by and clears it away, and a golden glow comes from the north. But the Almighty we cannot find; his power is beyond our ken, yet in his great righteousness he does not pervert justice.
Therefore mortals pay him reverence, and all who are wise fear him. “ Job 36:27-37:24
