February 4, 2024

During the Storm. The muted thunder rumbled in a graying sky. Haughty men who had laughingly scoffed at Noah silenced their conversation. The roofs that served as umbrellas from the beginning rain would soon offer no defense from the flash floods. Soon the midday sky would look more like a sky in the night. Darkening clouds grew even darker. Lightning raced ahead of each deafening boom of intensifying thunder.   

The thinking man who had reasoned away Noah’s predictions suddenly shut off his mind. For his hand held mouth could no longer speak logic; it was too busy screaming. Understanding gave way to shock. Need overtook arrogant denial; a need for safety, a need for survival, a need for shelter. Those who had danced in bars while Noah and his sons stayed busy building now began involuntary dance routines as the fountains of the deep broke up.

The thrill seeker became the God seeker. Undulating waves of death attacked every inch of lower elevation. As the nightmare continued, thousands rushed to higher ground. But doom could not be avoided; for the water ascended to higher elevations. They had a chance to enter the ark on a sunny day, when there was no threat of bad weather, when the rain of destruction was still thousands of miles away. Instead, rejection ruled their tongues; hateful rhetoric spewed with fervent insults now reciprocated back to them in untamed torrents.

The torment most felt was not provided by the swirling winds and rain, but in the horror of being so terribly wrong. All the tarot card toting prognosticators, the astrologers who studied the stars, understood celestial maps and calculated seasons had arrogantly overlooked the simple words of Noah. Listen now…

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