Storms. Growing up in Arizona, I have experienced storms, but not that many. A few stand out in my memory—once sitting in the basement of my Grandpa’s house in SE Colorado with my cousin. She lived in Long Beach and I grew up here, so we thought we knew about thunderstorms, but we found out we did not. We sat on the edge of my bed together, jumping whenever a particularly loud clap of thunder would assault the sky, causing everything to vibrate with the air shocks. I did not know what I was afraid of—didn’t really think I would drown, although I was below ground in the basement . . . I didn’t really think the house might blow away, although I grew up trembling during the Wizard of Oz movie . . . I was just afraid. It was truly frightening, and I know many of you out there have felt the same way.
Originally preached Sunday, June 24, 2018
Another time I remember a good old Arizona gulley washer when the water in the street in front of our home lapped the bottom of our front door all the way to the door across the street. That was frightening. And many of you remember the “flood” of 2014 right in our own backyard.
Storms can be frightening. They can be dangerous. They can be damaging.
Back to that summer thunderstorm in Colorado—while my cousin and I were cowering in the basement, wondering if life as we knew it would continue, our grandfather was sitting upstairs in the living room, probably reading, while he waited out the storm.
Our scripture this morning deals with a storm, and it deals with fear, but most importantly it reveals God to us.