“Without warning, a furious storm came up” (Matthew 8:24).
We’ve been living in Wilson, North Carolina since 1987. Since then, we’ve seen our fair share of storms. But last Saturday’s F2 tornado was a new experience.
Moving from the hills of Virginia, we weren’t accustomed to the annual reality of “hurricane season,” but after living here for over 20 years, we’ve learned to be on alert for the possibility of these devastating storms with innocuous names, like Hugo, Floyd, and Fran.
However, our hurricane experience didn’t prepare us for this nameless twister that plowed through Wilson cutting a narrow swath of destruction through town like a dizzy weed eater. Properties on either side of the tornado’s path were unscathed, but those in its track were ripped apart with a ferocity that is hard to describe.
Of all the places that this tornado could travel, it entered Wilson on the side of town where we are remodeling a building for our new church home. As it entered the intersection of Tarboro and Forest Hills, it stacked cars on top of each other in the Walgreens parking lot, flipped a 18-wheeler on its side, threw a boat still on its trailer onto the roof of Medlin Buick’s garage, blew out windows in the Holiday Inn, spearing it with debris, then made its way like a precision guided missile for our property. Crossing our parking lot it seemed to empty itself of all that it 
had vacuumed up… trees, metal roofing, a dumpster. It came right up to the edge of our building, grabbed a porta-potty belonging to our contractor and threw it 200 feet into the woods. Then, it suddenly turned hard left, going around our building, destroying the privacy fence in the back and throwing trees onto the neighboring houses and apartments behind us.
Our church building took some damage to the roof and guttering, but compared to our neighbors, we are so fortunate. We’ve spent the whole week cleaning up our property and getting insurance appraisals. But it could have beens so much worse.
One of our church families lost their home. Many of our members have spent the last couple of days helping them move their belongings to a storage unit. We’re thankful that no one was hurt. With all the destruction in Wilson, it’s a miracle that there were no fatalities.
How are we supposed to respond to furious storms that come upon us without warning? And how do we respond when our neighbors are hurt by storms and we aren’t?
The truth is that storms happen. They hit young and old, rich and poor, the good and the bad. In this world there will be storms.
When the disciples encountered a sudden storm while on the Sea of Galilee they were terrified, but Jesus lay sleeping in the boat. They cried out to him in fear and he awoke and calmed the storm, commanding the winds and the waves to be still.
This Easter weekend we are thankful to this same Jesus, who doesn’t leave us alone in life’s storms. He is present. He is with us through the storms. And when we call out to him, he hears us and calms our fears.
Whether the storms have names or move namelessly through our lives, we can call on the name of Jesus. He is risen. He is alive and present. We can call on him both during and after the storm.