I'm in the midst of storm season here in Little Rock. It's a crazy experience. The morning started out all gray, then we got midday sun and warmth, and mere hours later, bam. Big fatty horns blared for an hour to warn of impending tornadoes, and the weatherman said, "That's a gnarly piece of hail. The nasty appendages could do serious damage if they came down on someone's head." Love it! He had been talking about storms for four hours already, but this was my favorite excerpt.
I try to imagine what it must have been like back before there was Doppler to tell me when I need to crouch in my bathtub and when I'm in the clear. Before there were cell phones to text friends and make sure we're all okay.
The obvious parallel is that with this one exception, we don't get Doppler warnings of the storms of life. We don't get to know ahead when our worlds are about to be ravaged. Which makes me glad, yet again, that my Jesus lives. And unlike my bathtub, the shelter He provides is quite roomy. Freeing. And soapscum free.
Thank you, Jesus, for Doppler, and storm chasers, and for protecting my patio furniture. And please be with Dirk the Blue Impala, unguarded in the gnarly hail, and the folks whose stormy night is just beginning. Please guard lives tonight and always. Please let this world see what it means to reside in the glorious hope and freedom of your shelter. All my love.