Who is this wonderful God we serve? I don’t profess I know Him in His entirety, or from whence He came, or why He loves us, or how He measures time, but I do know He is alive because He danced with me the other night. As Snoopy would say… “It was a dark and stormy night….” If you’ve never experienced a thunder storm in the tropics you are missing out on experiencing some of the grandeur and reason to fear God. One Sunday evening, after a melancholy day of struggling with irregular electricity, whiny children, meals to cook, and wet clothes that wouldn’t dry, the family set off for the hostel for a meal of rice, leafy vegetables, and small fish (including heads.) Fortunately for me I decided to forgo dinner so I could tend my rip-roaring fire that had wet clothes hanging near it. After the family departed, the sky darkened and it began to rain so fiercely that one couldn’t hear someone next to them shouting if they tried. The wind whipped around the house and the lights flickered as smoke filled the room.
I happened to walk into the kitchen right around that time. Two walls of the kitchen have numerous windows and I watched the wonders outside unfold. Faintly I heard a sound of music and realized Dasen had left the ipod on. I turned it up all the way so I could make out the song, and it was the ethereal sound of Enya, singing one of her songs that I’ve heard hundreds of times, but never knew the words. As I starred out the window, I suddenly had a switch flip on in my mind. God was speaking to me, and oddly enough He used Enya to do it. The words came loud and clear as she sang “Storms in Africa.” The stress of my day was enveloped in the storm, and I became encapsulated in the wonder of Him. The fierceness of His storm, the apparent discontinuity of sending us to Africa at this phase of our lives, the struggle to embrace a plan bigger than we can comprehend, and the coming to arms between wanting to embrace God’s will and actually doing it all flowed through the music as the Spirit embraced me.
So we danced- passionately. And I remembered how desperately I love Him, and how infinitesimal the measure of my love is compared to His. God is a great dancer if you could believe me. He is strong and bold and sure of His movements. He dips and swings and glides and leaves you breathless with life. Hold His hands and invite Him to lead you. Can you dare to believe that He is both demandingly real and invisibly romantic? A storm in Africa has shown me this beautiful facet of Him again.