The Hand of God is Like a Summer Storm


We’ve hit real summer weather here in Tennessee, which means it’s nearing 100 degrees and 90 percent humidity each day, with a 50% chance of thunderstorms during every daylight hour.

The air is literally ripe with electricity. It is weighed down like heavy eyelids, curling leaves and hair with damp pressure.

I move slower too- less time outside, more naps. And every time I go to get in the car, I check the weather.

We didn’t have storms in New York like we have here in Tennessee, but I’m learning how these summer storms go. The air gets heavier, the sky begins to darken. The wind picks up until the trees are blown nearly sideways, and then you can smell it.

The rain.

Usually there’s a crack of thunder just before the first drops. It’s like the moisture in the air has been carrying these drops all day, waiting for just this moment. The whole world explodes in water and thunder and it can last just a minute or nearly an hour. It knocks over trash cans and whips against windshields and once all of its energy is finally spent, it leaves the world (if only for a moment) cool and quiet and free.


I like my life to be safe and predictable and controlled. I like for the weather to do what the app says it will in the morning. I like for my schedule to go unchanged and for my people to respond quickly and preferably in the way that favors my plans.

But I think the hand of God is more like a summer storm than a German train.

I’d like him to show up more predictably, like right before a hate crime or in the middle of presidential campaigns. I want him in my life on my terms, or at least the comfort of knowing he’ll show up every Tuesday at 3:30 for a cup of tea.

Instead, it seems like his presence hangs heavy in the air without much miracle for days while we sweat it out down here. Everyone’s asking for him to show up and looking for him and yet we wait as the sky begins to darken and the winds begin to blow.


The air is heavy with the prayers of the people. This world is broken and it is our fault and so we look to the skies to see when the relief will come.

The hand of God is like a summer storm. I do not know when or where he will break through, but there is electricity in the air.

I cannot explain or predict Him, but I can feel Him. It’s going to rain.

Share on Facebook0Tweet about this on TwitterPin on Pinterest0Share on Google+0Email this to someone

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *