God Thundered

Last night's storm needed a name. So I'm calling her Danica, in honor of the way Danica Patrick thundered around Indy bringing respect back to "The Greatest Spectacle in Racing."

I love storms like Danica, even though my friend Mel from Orlando Utilities sees them as purveyors of hundreds of hours of soggy overtime. She roared and crashed and lit the sky around our house for 90 minutes last night, reminding thousands of golfers that Orlando is still the world's #1 destination for lightning.

For the best part of the storm, when she was full of lightning and thunder and buckets of rain, I opened the garage door and watched Danica at her best. I think it's the thunder that gets me-its visceral pounding pushing the blood through my veins faster than Jimmy Johnson at Charlotte's mile 599. I'd whoop after the really heavy instant bangs, the ones where the lightning and thunder come as one, and then hear echoes of my shouts from other watchers around the neighborhood.

Danica was better than Epcot's Illuminations. And wetter, too. Three point six inches fell on our dry lawn in less than 90 minutes. Just after Brenda had watered her orchids and the new red-and-yellow daisy.

I wondered if God was speaking through the thunder. He did once, you know. Just as John the Baptizer was bringing Jesus up from the water, God thundered into a clear blue sky. So excited was He about His Son's starting work that His words flashed to the Jordan River at mach 10, splitting the sky with a whoop of approval.

Some just heard thunder, and wondered how it could come from a cloudless sky. Others, those whose ears were tuned to listen to every whisper of God's Voice, heard words. Big words. God words. Shouted from His throne as they launched the Greatest Life in History.

"This is my boy, and I really really like Him!"

I've heard His words of approval many times. Sometimes He shouts for me, but more often His voice is for others, men and women whose lives are ripe for thunder from afar. Sometimes He thunders, but usually He whispers. Last night was just a storm, but I listened closely anyway, hearing a whisper of forgiveness, a flash of challenge, and the booming thunder of His approval.

"I will come to you," He says, "Like lightning." With thunder. Matthew 24:27

Dick Duerksen
Assistant Vice President
Mission development
Florida Hospital