Fear and Trembling

It is ten o-clock and the late evening sky is still dimly lit with hues of blue and grey. A rush of clouds is filtering through my backyard—twisting and splitting, moving too fast for a windless summer night. Every ten seconds or so the trembling rumble of thunder reverberates on every side, leaving a clangorous resonance that is almost eerie. Repeatedly, a spontaneous punch of lighting will illuminate the entire yard, coming and going like an irregular heartbeat. Each time the lightning revisits, it is like a spotlight, highlighting the immeasurable space beyond it—the overwhelming amount of stars that have no sign of ending.

I sit here, my back just barely against the fence, my body still wet from swimming in the lake hours ago.

I am cold.

Something about this abnormal thunder-and-lightning storm and the chilling feeling of my wet hair and goose bumps is making me feel so very small.

So small.

There it goes again. The bruising sound of thunder. I wrap a towel around my arms and upper body, but it is damp and bringing little comfort. Something out here is keeping me from going inside.

God is here.

This afternoon my friend, Christie, told me that a few nights ago she had an experience that helped her understand a bit more of what it means to fear the Lord with trembling. She was alone, just after night set in. As she walked to the edge of a wooden dock, she could see the two hills in the distance rising on either side of her. They cast a deep, dark reflection on the water in front of her. It was an almost frightening sight. All day she had been quoting scripture about the fear of the Lord, repeatedly asking God, “What is it to fear you? What does that look like? I want to know what it is to fear you.” There as she stood on the dock, she understood. She was drawn closer in to the mystery of the overwhelming sight—the beauty of the dark hills was what she described as “terrifying”. But as she reservedly scooted nearer to the water, overwhelmed with the presence of God in that place, her legs began to shake uncontrollably. All she could do was weep. Head cast down in a powerful moment of fright and humility, she knew she had to walk the other direction. She had tasted a bit of God’s mightiness and strength—too great to lay eyes upon…too far beyond her ability to comprehend.

Christie’s story is reverberating in my mind.

Psalm 18:7-19

He parted the heavens and came down;

dark clouds were under his feet.

He mounted the cherubim and flew;

he soared on the wings of the wind.

He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him—

the dark rain clouds of the sky.

Out of the brightness of his presence clouds advanced,

with hailstones and bolts of lightning.

The LORD thundered from heaven;

the voice of the Most High resounded.

He shot his arrows and scattered the enemies,

great bolts of lightning and routed them.

The valleys of the sea were exposed

and the foundations of the earth laid bare

at your rebuke, O LORD,

at the blast of breath from your nostrils.

He reached down from on high and took hold of me;

he drew me out of deep waters.

I want to know what it is to fear the Lord. I want fear the Lord with trembling. I want to be filled with reverence and awe. I want to tremble with fear at the thought of ever displeasing him. I want to know all that He is… and all that I am not in His presence.
In this moment He is so great and I am still so small. Each reverberating sound of a thunderous blow reminds me that in a moment He could crush me. Yet He spares me. He meets with me. The very God that could destroy me with one stroke of his mighty hand uses that hand to “reach down from on high and take hold of me” (vs.9).

All of a sudden it is raining. Five days of scorching weather and now a spontaneous rain. The drops are pelting all around me. Where moments ago I was wet, now everything around me is wet. Covered.

I think I have had a small glimpse…