A Mighty Wind... The Revd. Deacon Polly M. Bowen
One night there was a violent storm. The wind howled throughout the night, and as if that wasn’t enough to keep us all awake, Nature put on a spectacular light show, punctuated by booming thunder, the snapping of tree limbs, and the ominous wail of sirens in the distance. I lay awake listening to odd thumps and creaky sounds in my house, wondering if there would be any shingles left on the roof when the storm was over.
The next morning the wind was still blowing furiously. To make matters worse, it was rubbish collection day on my street, and my neat, efficient neighbors had all put their trash out the night before. I often forget about that, so mine wasn’t out, and for once I was GLAD I had forgotten. My yard was strewn with paper and tree limbs, other peoples’ garbage cans, shingles (some were mine, but the colorful variety suggested that mine wasn’t the only house being blown apart), milk cartons, bread wrappers, tin cans and other assorted clutter.
There didn’t yet seem to be much point in trying to do anything about the mess, because as I stood at my window watching, the roaring wind blew the debris away and delivered a new assortment. A plastic trash can lid crashed into my picture window; the window didn’t break, but the suddenness of it caused me to duck! I had visions of Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz” – and when I turned on the TV I learned that Kansas and some other places had indeed been hit by twisters. But the weatherman promised me we weren’t going to have anything like that here, and I decided that picking up the neighbors’ trash wasn’t a bad exchange. Besides, their usually immaculate yards were also a mess.
Eventually the storm ended and people came out to survey the damage. There was an unexpected camaraderie in cleaning up after the storm, and something poignant about the way the wind had exposed the weak or shabby things about our houses. Neighbors waved to one another as they patched roofs and repaired shutters; everyone seemed to understand that we were all vulnerable – we were all in this together.
I remember another time when a wind blew through my life with terrible fury. It was a spiritual wind, and it drove me back to the Church after a prolonged absence. Although it was a much subtler wind, it struck with the same kind of irresistible force, and it had the same sort of effect: all my ugly stuff was exposed and I knew it was time to get my house in order. I soon learned that I was among friends in the Church; everyone’s life was a mess in one way or another, and we were all working together to support one another and build up the Body of Christ.
Even Jesus felt this driving power of the Spirit after his baptism, when he was driven into the wilderness to wrestle with the forces of evil (Mark 1:12). In that encounter he would make decisions that would affect all of Creation.
A few years later his disciples, waiting and wondering what would happen next, were surprised by the Spirit on the day of Pentecost (Acts 2:1-4), when their lives were changed and the world was changed forever. They already had the promise of God’s help, but never in their wildest dreams had they imagined that help would arrive in the form of a mighty wind!
“The wind blows where it chooses,” Jesus said to Nicodemus, “and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.” (John 3:8)
Our relationship with God can involve many winds, both fierce and subtle. We may seek his comfort in the presence of a piercing gale, or try to hide from the blistering sirocco of an encounter with our own sinfulness. The devastating storms and squalls of our life can have the effect of driving us to the place where we have nowhere else to turn. And when that happens, we find him there, waiting for us, whispering love in a gentle breeze. Sometimes we have to be very still and listen, but he will never fail us. He is there.
