I stayed home from work yesterday, as I was supposed to have a doctor’s appointment out here, and didn’t have anything so pressing that would make driving downtown for half a day necessary. It was a sunny morning, and I cranked up my tunes and set about cleaning house.

About an hour before I was to leave, I noticed that suddenly the house was very dark. I was back in the guest bathroom at the time, without the aid of the bank of windows that run the length of the back of my house, so I walked out to take a look. This is what I saw:

I checked the weather radar, and we were right in line for a whopper of a storm with high winds, hail and flash-flooding. I battened down the hatches, pottied the dog, and waited for the first drops to arrive.

Arrive they did.

Before I knew it, there was crazy (read: C.R.A.Z.Y.) thunder and lightning that rattled all those windows, threatening to do them in completely. The rain came down so thick that it was hard to see through it, and the pool water level was rising quicker than if I’d had two or three water hoses in there to fill it. The wind whipped through the trees and hail started to pummel in short order. It was nuts out there.

But inside, it was lovely. The house was clean, my music played softly, a few lamps were on around the house to cut the out-of-place, midday darkness, and there was a spring scent floating on the air from a freshly-stocked Scentsy burner. As the storm raged, I contently did veggie prep in the kitchen for dinner.

I had to cancel my doctor’s appointment, as there was no way I was going to get out in this hail and flash-flooding, so suddenly the rest of my afternoon was free. I was right where I needed, and wanted, to be, when I realized I was humming a tune, and not the soft jazz that was permeating my home. No, it was a hymn…

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:
For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.

I stopped chopping celery, and looked out at the wind, whipping the rain against the windows and causing the pool to look like the high seas, right there from the peaceful calm of my kitchen. I was in the fortress, a bulwark from this storm, but more, while the storms of life might whip against me, and a hail storm of problems and struggles might painfully pummel, there is still a Place of Peace and Protection against that, too.

A Mighty Fortress.

A Bulwark never failing.

I hummed and chopped, and might have gotten a little teary in the midst.

Maybe it was the onion.

Or maybe it was being safely in the palm of a mighty God.

“The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” Psalm 18:2 ESV

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” Psalm 27:1 ESV

“You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance.” Psalm 32:7 ESV

“You who sit down in the High God’s presence,
    spend the night in Shaddai’s shadow,
Say this: “God, you’re my refuge.
    I trust in you and I’m safe!” Psalm 91:1-2 MSG