Two Conceptions of God and a Summer Storm

Last weekend my wife and I were in our weekend home in a rural area of eastern Virginia. A tornado, or perhaps a “micro-burst,” swept through the area and downed thousands of trees in a matter of minutes. The storm came suddenly, bringing hurricane-like winds and torrential rain with almost no warning. It lasted no more than ten minutes. Within a half hour, the sun was back out and it was possible to examine the devastation. We learned that the damage was very localized, limited to a few square miles. The drive to our house was littered with huge trees that had been snapped by the wind. By hiking up the drive and crawling under and over downed trees, we were able to make it to the road that led to the highway. To our dismay, it was also covered with huge trees. Even if we were able to clear the drive, the road to the highway was blocked, too.

There was no way to leave except by boat. We had no equipment (or the skill) to move such huge trees. We could only pick up small branches in our yard, but that seemed pointless. We knew that hundreds of other families were experiencing the same devastation. Neither one of us had experienced such a storm or such damage to our own property. We were discouraged and confused.

In another hour, though, things began to change. Across the creek, we could hear chain saws cutting through fallen trees. We met our next door neighbor coming up our shared drive. He had been working when the storm hit, but he had parked a mile away and hiked up to his house, crawling over and around snapped trees. He told me other neighbors—who did have the right equipment-- were already working to push aside the massive trees that had fallen on the road. In a few hours, they hoped to cut their way to our drive and begin clearing a path for us, as well. Perhaps we would not need to escape by boat after all..

As I reflected on this experience later, it occurred to me that it is possible to imagine two very different conceptions of God emerging from the storm. The first is the traditional conception of God, an omnipotent being who had become a powerful wind, passing over a village and punishing those who had offended him. Imagine pre-scientific humans, trying to understand such sudden and localized devastation. It would have been natural to assume a god was angry about something. Perhaps the damage would have been so great that the story of the storm would be told over campfires and repeated year after year, perhaps becoming part of the cultural history of the tribe. Over the generations, the story would evolve into a comprehensible legend. Perhaps a pillar of fire would be added at some point, as well as a description of the events that supposedly led up to it.. The legend would make a powerful point about what kind of behavior is offensive to the gods – perhaps even to the God of the Old Testament.

The other conception of God that emerges from the storm is one that makes sense to modern humans who realize powerful winds are not divinely inspired. Within hours of the storm, neighbors were helping each other recover. People were working side by side in the hot, humid air, cutting a path to each other’s doors because it was the right thing to do. There was genuine unqualified compassion for each other, even among those who had never met. No, it will not be permanent, and we will probably drift back to our own patios and boats, and simply wave to each other now and then. But we had the great privilege of seeing others pursue the highest value to which we can aspire. We can think of that highest ideal as God, and loving God as acting on it. Just as our ancestors drew lessons from powerful storms, we can as well.