Our home is affixed on a hill. Stonebridge Hill to be precise. In the many years that we have made our dwelling here, we have gotten quite accustomed to some certain things associated with our property, not the least of which is how the weather comes and goes across the hill.
Last evening we sat down to our feast of Mexican turkey. My lovely bride and I were excited. Others were not. Usually this blessed concoction consists of a mixture of chicken, broth, tortilla chips, cream of chicken soup, and diced tomatoes with green chilies, topped with a generous layer of shredded cheddar cheese. Leftover gobbler from our Sunday meal stood in as a substitute for the prescribed poultry.
When “It’s ready!” was proclaimed by the queen, it was music to my ears and I abandoned my bill paying and rushed downstairs to be the first in line at the trough. The little people trickled in slowly from the outer reaches of the property, punishing me for arriving too early and having to prolong my anticipation to dig in. As Olivia and I sat on our perches at the table, awaiting the arrival of the others, we admired the roar of the wind as it rushed up our driveway. As it made its way through the trees and around the red brick corners of the house, it moaned “oooooohh, OOOOOHHHH, OOOOOOOOHHHH!” as it blew around the corners and crevices.
I turned over to Olivia at my left and did my best verbal impression of the wind a couple of times, pointing out to her the sound and power of it. Her eyes were wild with the same excitement and fascination that I was feeling. She looked at me with all the seriousness she could muster and proclaimed, “Yeah, it sounds like a tormato!” Laughter ensued from me and the rest of the small crowd that had gathered.
I can’t help but wonder if that is what it felt like to Elijah when he hid in that “cleft of the rock” as the Glory of the Lord passed over in 1 Kings chapter 19?
“And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.”
When the windy storms pass over our house it’s rather exciting to stand on the second floor and gaze out the window in amazement as the tall slender trees whip back and forth like blades of grass in a summer breeze. God’s magnificence is much the same way but a hundredfold more. Yet, as exciting as those moments are, I covet those times in which God isn’t like a roaring mighty wind at all, but a whispering still small voice that causes my heart to quiver and draws my soul to Him.
I long for more of those days.
Written by David Steen, with God smiling, February 19-20, 2013