Have you ever smelled rain? Have you been exhilarated by lightning? Have you ever been fearful in the wind or awestruck at the rising waters? The power of the storm both attracts and repels. Why might that be?
The air of rain does smell
All birds’ songs it does quell
The nerves of grazing beasts try
When a fierce storm is nigh
Of sudden does it burst
Relieving ground’s long thirst
Overtop river banks
Calamitous flood pranks
No way to stem the tide
Or break the waves’ wild pride
Neither calm the screaming wind
Nor many trees defend
Where can one find shelter
Midst the helter-skelter?
Or from much loss be spared
No matter how prepared?
The Maker of the storm
Who gave to all things form
He our refuge always
To Him for help one prays
He may deem things be lost
Great material cost
But rescue of the soul
Is the reward and goal
Though many troubles come
Storms that frighten and numb
Yet He is gracious still
Your heart with thankfulness fill
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We are awed by the wonderful, the powerful, the overwhelming, and the strikingly beautiful. The God who created the world is all of those things and more and He has made us for Him. We have then an inbred desire to seek for the glorious*. I believe that it gives glory to Him to see the superior in Creation. We must, however, make it our goal to see Him in all that He has created and done, so that all glory and honor goes to Him as is due Him and beneficial for us. Fear of harm must surely be the main reason we are repelled by storms. God is merciful to those who trust Him, but He is powerful and not to be trifled with.
I read poetry online infrequently, but recently I did because of a poet’s name that came up in conversation. One of the poems was about storms. It was good poetry, but it was atrocious theology. I don’t like poetry with bad form but I really don’t like poetry that tells lies or misses the truth. So, I set out to write my own poem about storms. When it flows and conveys deeper truths, I am happy with what I have written. Given the constraints of poetical form I place upon myself, it is difficult to convey the ideas in the way that I want.
*from Hebrew kabod, meaning weighty and the Greek doxa, meaning of honorable reputation
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