In the ‘burbs outside St. Louis, the heavens have let loose. Lighting scars the sky and thunder bounds from hill to hill. Rain pours.
I am reminded of Job. As the LORD replied to Job’s demand for an explanation, He asked Job:
“Who has cleft a channel for the torrents of rain and a way for the thunderbolt, to bring rain on a land where no man is, on the desert in which there is no man, to satisfy the waste and desolate land, and to make the ground sprout with grass? Has the rain a father, or who has begotten the drops of dew?”
Job could only answer:
“Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth. I have spoken once, and I will not answer; twice, but I will proceed no further.”
The rain testifies to the power—but also to the love of the LORD, for “He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.”
In sun and rain, drought and tempest, He is God.