Tag Archives: thunder

Ten Thousand Thunders

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One of the goals I set for myself this summer is to read “Paradise Lost” by John Milton. It’s an epic poem, first published in 1667 and considered to be Milton’s masterpiece. Written in blank verse, which means it doesn’t rhyme, every line has exactly ten syllables. And there are over 10,000 lines in this poem. I thought it would take me all summer to slog through this renowned classic.

But I can’t put it down.

The poem tells the story of the war in heaven, the expulsion of Lucifer with one-third of the rebellious angels, and the temptation and fall of humans in Eden.

The other day, I had to put it down because I was weeping.
I had no idea this archaic poem would move me so much.

Here’s the scene:

As the war in heaven between the holy angels and the fallen angels raged on, God called on the great Son to enter the fray. Jesus roared into the battle on a “fierce chariot” with “burning wheels” that shook all of heaven. In His right hand He grasped “ten thousand thunders.” With one look at the Son, the demons “withered all their strength.” They were driven like a herd of goats to the “crystal wall of heaven” where opening wide before them was the “wasteful deep, a monstrous sight that shook them with horror.” But with the Almighty Son closing in on them, they chose to jump—”headlong themselves they threw down to the bottomless pit. Nine days they fell.”

Here’s my thought:

Milton’s depiction of the Son of God in all His power and glory was breathtaking. His account of the decisive and complete victory over evil gave me goosebumps. But what brought me to tears was the realization that Jesus could have shaken earth with ten thousand thunders, but instead chose to withhold His power and submit to death, even death on a cross. For love of you and me.

I know what happens next, but I can’t wait to see how Milton describes it.

The Silver Drawer

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“It is the Lord who sends the thunderstorms.” Zechariah 10:1

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The sound of a thunderstorm makes some people nervous, but I’ve always loved the rumble in the heavens. When I was little, we would sit on the front porch and watch the summer storm clouds roll in over the cornfields. I must have picked up on my mother’s calmness, because I never felt the urge to dive under my bed and plug my ears. Instead, we counted the seconds between thunder claps and lightning bolts as we kept an eye out for the men coming in from the field.

Occasionally, if the skies turned an eerie yellow and the air hung heavy, we would scamper down to the basement to wait out the windstorm. A call always went out as we hurried down the stairs, “Don’t forget the silver drawer.”

The silver drawer was pulled out of the hutch and carefully carried down the steps to safety. Those knives and forks were the real deal, not stainless steel every-day utensils. This was silver silverware — the kind that needed to be polished before every holiday meal. The kind that was washed and dried by hand so it wouldn’t tarnish. The kind that was rolled up in felt pouches and placed into a special wooden chest. The kind you would take to the cellar if there happened to be a tornado warning.

I didn’t understand the value of that treasured box at the time. I grew up thinking that every family kept their drawer full of silverware close by during times of trouble.

Thunder still congers up feelings of family and safety and the fun of unexpected time together in the basement on a muggy summer evening. Today that silverware is in my house, in the same hutch, in the same chest, in the same felt pouches. And, naturally, I will haul that drawer downstairs if the winds blow hard enough.

“The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders.”   Psalm 29:3