I have always been drawn to wild weather and the wind exhilarates me. As a South African who was all too well acquainted with the harshness of drought on my grandparent’s farm, Florida rain is an endless source of wonder, and I would rather grab a raincoat than make a complaint! But I must say, Florida hurricane and tornado warnings can be unnerving, to say the least, a sure proof that there are things on this old earth we still have no control over, something that makes us deeply uncomfortable. There is a profound sense of helplessness that comes with waiting for disaster to take its predicted shape, since even the most free-thinking of us exercises some control over at least part of our lives. And what is happening in our physical world right now is also a perfect metaphor for some things being experienced by so many people I care about deeply. Death and disease can wreak havoc in a moment, and often the courage it takes to regain a sense of balance seems like too much to bear or even contemplate.

So, tonight, looking out at the pouring rain, and bearing in mind that Hurricane Milton is supposed to make landfall in the early hours of the morning, I run into Psalm 57v1: “Have mercy on me(us), my God, have mercy on us, for in you we take refuge. We will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed.”

There is a secret to being at peace amid a storm, of being hopeful even when fear hangs in the air like a bad smell. It is simply this – it is learning to live in that holy place, that space beneath his hovering wings, that shadow that cools our fevered souls and is so much larger than the bad weather trying to blow us off our feet! It’s called “abiding”, a term not used too much these days. Psalm 91v1 says: “Those who dwell in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”

This is something I CAN control. To abide, all day, every day. This is a choice I CAN make. The choice to stay so close to him, that I can hear his “still, small voice” despite the thundering noise of the storm.

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