"Does not all nature around me praise God?
If I were silent, I should be an exception to the universe. Does not the thunder praise Him as it rolls like drums in the march of the God of armies? Do not the mountains praise Him when the woods upon their summits wave in adoration? Does not the lightning write His name in letters of fire?
Has not the whole earth a voice?
And shall I, can I, silent be?"
-Charles Spurgeon
Even the tempest sings of His glory. Every wave bows in reverence to his will, and the thunder rumbles a hymn. The rain, in its tears, echoes the splendor of His majesty. Yes, even the storm worships Him.
As I am tossed by the winds, and doubt whether He sees me, I can KNOW that He does. For He never misses a single note of worship, and all creation lifts its voice in praise to Him.
Why, then, would I not lift my voice in the midst of the storm? Why would I not join the wind in its song of adoration? Why would I not worship here, where the lightning dances across the heavens?
Why would I withhold my praise?
Even in the relentless rain, I can raise my weary hands, for every drop must sing of Him. How could I remain silent? How could I withhold from God the praise that is His due?
No, I will worship Him here, my voice mingling with the howling winds, blessing His name as the waves crash around me.
The anchor holds fast.
And for that alone, I will worship Him here.
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