Britain has had its fill of wind and rain, but the forecasters assure us we have more to come. The jokes about ark-building are wearing thin as the misery of those who have been flooded out or seen homes and businesses wrecked becomes more and more apparent. In such circumstances the scriptural allusions to wind and rain as images of the Holy Spirit and blessing become a trifle problematic. Yes, we can all make more or less successful stabs at thinking ourselves into the Old Testament world of desert sand and rock, but when we see water, water everywhere, the effort almost overwhelms us.
My own response would be to go with the flow. I think we* have got into the habit of thinking of God as somehow remote and uninvolved in his creation, a weak God whom we can safely ignore. To be reminded, like Job, that we cannot control the wind and rain, and that its force is enough to smash rocks that have stood firm for thousands of years, is to be reminded that God is, as we profess, almighty, all powerful — a God who, though infinitely loving and loveable, is also profound mystery, beautiful and strange in his otherness: a God to be adored, not ignored.
* the ‘we’ I am referring to here is loosely defined as those who would say they believe in some sort of God or Spiritual Force, but whose ideas are often vague and unspecific.