"At this also my heart trembles and leaps out of its place. Keep listening to the thunder of his voice and the rumbling that comes from his mouth. Under the whole heaven he lets it go, and his lightning to the corners of the earth. After it his voice roars; he thunders with his majestic voice, and he does not restrain the lightnings when his voice is heard. God thunders wondrously with his voice; he does great things that we cannot comprehend." (Job 37:1–5)
I love this kind of stuff! There are moments when life becomes a storm—when the weight of suffering, uncertainty, and fear presses in so heavily that it feels like God is silent, but Scripture tells us otherwise. God is not distant—passive—He is speaking, and when He does, it shakes everything.
Elihu, one of Job's dubious, fun-filled, optimistic counsellors, is standing before Job in the wreckage of his suffering. He isn’t offering comfort wrapped in 'fluffy bunny' clichés. He points to the storm, to the voice of God thundering over creation. This isn’t a still, small whisper; it's raw, unfiltered power—the manifest presence of the Almighty, not a theory or a well-thought-through idea. It's a reality that makes the heart tremble.
The Fear That Changes Everything
This is not the comfortable, domesticated God so many have come to expect. Elihu’s response isn’t curiosity—it’s terror. “At this also my heart trembles and leaps out of its place.” He knows that when God speaks, everything shifts. This is a test to the thinking. Elihu is speaking of a powerful, uncontainable, fully omnipotent, holy, unique God who surrounds Himself with light.
Elihu’s terror, anxiety, and 'overwhelmedness' are the right responses. Throughout Scripture, every encounter with the presence of God brings a holy fear. When God led Israel, the mountain shook. When Isaiah saw Him, he cried out, “Woe is me! For I am lost.” When Jesus was transfigured, a voice from heaven declared, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him”—and the disciples fell to the ground in fear.
The same thing happens in Mark 4. A violent storm rises on the Sea of Galilee. You know the story well. The disciples—many of them fishermen who know these waters—believe they are about to die, so they wake Jesus, desperate, accusing: “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” And He rises, rebukes the wind, speaks to the sea, “Peace! Be still!”
And in an instant, the chaos surrenders. Here’s the part we can’t miss: the disciples’ fear does not vanish. It shifts. “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” They were afraid of the storm—now they are terrified of the man standing before them. They realise what Elihu knew—God is not just present in the storm. He commands it.
The Call to Repentance
If God’s voice shakes the heavens, what does that mean for us? When God speaks, it is not just to comfort. It is to convict. Job, after encountering the full weight of God’s presence, does not argue. He does not defend himself; he repents and utters one of the most tender prayers in the Bible:
"I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you; therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” (Job 42:5–6)
The same thing happens elsewhere at every 'left-flick' throughout Scripture on the Bible app. Every encounter with Jesus forces a decision—will you bow, or will you resist, flick again until you get a less demanding verse?
The manifest presence of God does not leave people neutral. It either softens the heart or hardens it.
And that is the danger in our time. We want God to move, but do we want to be undone in His presence?
The Cross: The Greatest Thunder
Job 37 shows us the voice of God in power, in judgment, in unstoppable might, but the greatest storm in history was not on the Sea of Galilee—it was at the cross. It was the moment when darkness covered the land, when the wrath of God and the mercy of God collided in the broken body of Jesus. In that moment, there was no whisper. There was a cry, a roar: “IT IS FINISHED.”
That was the thunder that split the nuclear atom of history in two. The storm of separation, sin, shame, guilt, and judgment crashed against Christ so that we could stand in the presence of God without fear—reconciled, forgiven, holy, and blameless. The voice that once shook the mountains now speaks to us through the Son, calling us to life, to holiness, to surrender.
And for us?
We are living in storm-tossed days. The world is shaking. Watch the news—see friendly world leaders facing a common warhorse enemy, arguing with each other, angry that one has not said 'thank you' for military assistance even when they have, frequently. Chaos surrounds us like a thick, toxic cloud. The temptation is to panic, to believe that God is absent. What are we to do? Job 37 tells us something different: God is speaking—and may we have ears to hear because when God speaks, it is not just for information—it is for transformation.
He thunders so that we would tremble. He speaks so that we would repent. He commands the storm so that we would see Him clearly.
This is not a God to be managed, negotiated with, belittled, or told to be thankful if we serve Him—or even as a holy, omnipotent and omniscient Divine Being to answer to mere mortals when the question of suffering arises. He is not a theological concept. He is holy, unquenchable fire. He is rushing, roaring, violent wind. He is a voice that shakes the earth and makes mountains tremble.
And for us? He is our Father, our God, in whom we live and move and have our being!
For me - the manifest presence of God in our gatherings? Yes, please! We are His, and He is ours, and His banner over us is love.