God’s Thunderous & Loving Nature Reflections on Judges The book of Judges tells the story of Israel’s disobedience and unfaithfulness—again and again Israel turns from God and he allows their enemies to defeat and oppress them. “Yet you have forsaken me and served other gods; therefore I will save you no more. Go and cry out to the gods whom you have chosen; let them save you in the time of your distress” (Judg 10:13–14). Judges reminds us of the might of God’s anger. How do we equate this with our modern conception of Jesus, who tells us “I will not leave you or forsake you” (Josh 1:5)? The mass of clouds slid across the sky, erasing the stars one by one. Soon it extinguished the moon, slipping my husband and me into an uneasy darkness. Lightning silhouetted the jagged peaks and illuminated our once-serene alpine meadow. We had just zipped our tent flaps shut when the first drops of rain splattered on the nylon roof. In the distance, thunder seemed to growl, “You shouldn’t be here.” I couldn’t have agreed more. I have always dreaded storms. When I was young, a clap of thunder would send me scampering to my parents. “Thunder is made by angels bowling!” they would say. I was unconvinced. Knowing that God creates storms and has the power to calm them only made me wary of Him—this creator of nightmares. Now, amid the wind and thunder, I wasn’t so sure I had outgrown my childhood fear. The first half of Psalm 18 has always brought me comfort, as the psalmist professes love for Yahweh, declaring him “my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge” (18:2). Yet I cringe when, later in the psalm, that rock and deliverer makes “the earth reel and rock” and “the foundations … of the mountains tremble and quake” with his anger (18:7). When “smoke [goes] up from his nostrils, and devouring fire from his mouth” (18:8), I become downright uncomfortable. From the security and comfort of my house, this is a God I would hesitate to approach. I tend to favor God’s gentle attributes. I’m drawn to the Shepherd who leads me to still waters, prepares a bed for me in green pastures, and provides me with comfort and sustenance (Psa 23). Yet huddled atop a mountain, the wind abusing our tent—held to the ground by only 10 metal stakes and our own body weight—it wasn’t the image of the Good Shepherd that eased my fear. I found peace in knowing that I was praying to a fierce and mighty God who flies “swiftly on the wings of the wind” and “thunder[s] in the Heavens” to rescue his children (18:10, 13). It was comforting to know that the God I worship “flashe[s] forth lightnings and route[s] them” (18:14). God’s manifold nature is overwhelming. We struggle to see how he knits us in our mothers’ wombs (139:13) but also rains down “hailstones and coals of fire” with his voice (18:12). When we can’t reconcile his ferocity with his tenderness, we end up choosing one side over the other. We broadcast verses describing his steadfast love and gloss over those describing his judgment. But in doing so, we fail to recognize that verses describing God’s judgment are often some of the most vivid illustrations of his steadfast love. We worship a God who will rush into battle for his children, lay bare the foundations of the world for the faithful and rescue his followers in their day of calamity (18:15, 18). It’s his enemies who should be wary. The phrase “fear God” has lost some of its luster in a culture that prefers only a gentle heavenly Father. Huddled in my sleeping bag, I knew that God could flick us off that mountaintop without lifting a finger. He chose instead to shield us with his hand. I was confronted with God’s awesome presence. I felt affinity with the psalmist’s expressions of wonder and praise as he witnessed God’s power. May you embrace God in all his glory, knowing that the same God who makes mountains tremble and quake is faithful to rescue us—because he delights in us (18:6, 19). Elizabeth Vince Originally published in Bible Study Magazine Nov–Dec ‘13 Biblical references from ESV