This evening, the kids and I sat on the front stoop and watched the edge of a huge thunderstorm pass. It didn’t hit us, just brushed us by. But you could see lightening explode in bright splashes over the edges of the massive clouds, which even though I couldn’t see the top, I knew it towered as far above the ground as the tip of Mt. Everest and higher—a moving mountain with us at its feet. The thunder was like far off cannon-fire, and the evening breezes turned to wind. The beauty of living under so many trees is that you can hear the wind long before you see it. The leaves begin to rustle and then you feel its suddenness, the cold on your face, and smell the far off wetness on the dust.In moments like those, I can’t help but wonder if this isn’t a bit how Elijah felt in that cave on the mountain. I know God’s not in the storm, but my mind’s eyes can't help but catch flash bits of spirited cloth and footsteps in the wind, lightening and thunder. Amazing.
(Image: mine)