The wind whispered as it crept over the crest of the final mountain range. Realizing that nothing remained to obstruct its path, it decided to stretch its legs and have a run. Exhilarated, it grew from a whisper to a murmur as it bounced from rock to rock, swirling among the trees. The murmur grew to a growl as the wind found its jungle playground desecrated by the slash-and-burn farms of a nearby village. Careening down the mountain, it gathered itself for one final blast and roared into the trembling village.
A little more than a month earlier, I had arrived back in the village of Balangabong after furloughing in the States. It did my soul good to see the old familiar sights—the sun setting through the palms, my neighbor taking his monkey for an evening walk, children chasing a giant tokay lizard.
I quickly threw myself back into my work. Those first couple of weeks back, I treated approximately 30 patients per day, held three or four Bible studies per evening, attended church meetings, mentored leaders and participated in village meetings. I made preparations for a health seminar we had been planning and organized work bees to repair the church building. And then there was the day-to-day survival—cooking, hauling water, cleaning the hut, washing clothes. I had only been back for a few weeks, and I was already wearing out.
Just before the big wind struck, I was cooking a supper of noodles for my cousin Lisa and myself. She had just traveled down from Manila to visit when news arrived that a super-typhoon was bearing down on us with winds up to two hundred kilometers per hour. We expected it to reach us early the next morning.
It had been drizzling all day, and I noticed the wind and rain starting to pick up a bit. I had seen my share of typhoons over the years, and I assured Lisa that we would be fine. We would just wait it out in the house.
Suddenly I froze. “Did you hear that?” I asked.
“Hear what?” she replied.
“That low growling coming from the base of the mountain” I said. “It’s coming. It’s going to hit tonight.”
“Are we going to be ok?” Lisa asked.
“Oh sure,” I replied nonchalantly, stirring the pot of noodles. “Just to be safe, though, why don’t we put our electronics and any important books in my waterproof suitcase before we eat.”
A few minutes later as we sat eating, my poor little hut was rocked violently as if hit by a two-ton water buffalo. The shade tree by the corner of my porch split in two and crashed to the ground.
Sticks and brush clattered against the walls, and the rain drove against them. Quickly stashing the pot of food, I hollered to my cousin that we should go. Trees groaned as they doubled over, stands of bamboo cracked and exploded, and chunks of wood flew through the air.
Waiting for a lull in the wind, we made a dash for the training center near the church, where we joined several other families seeking shelter. This building had reinforced concrete walls, and its tin roof was screwed down. It was the strongest building in
the village.
The only problem was that it wasn’t finished, and the rain and debris blew in through the open window frames.
During another lull in the storm, several of us men dashed back to our houses to grab mats and blankets in case we had to spend the night. Back at the training center, we bedded down as best we could as the wind roared and debris crashed against the tin roof. Huddling together, we sang songs of assurance in Christ, prayed for safety from the storm, and then lay down to sleep.
The next thing I knew, I awoke to sunlight filtering through the open window frames. Several children were standing at the door staring at me, and they giggled as I rolled over. I had slept so soundly that I hadn’t even heard my companions get up and go home. Just as quickly as it had hit, the typhoon had passed.
Later we learned the full extent of what we had been spared. Many areas of the Philippines had been completely leveled, and many people had lost their lives. And yet in the entire village of Balangabong, not a single house was damaged, not a single person injured.
As David said, “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress; my God, in Him I will trust’” (Ps. 91:1, 2).
This is the assurance we have as Christians, that no matter what may come, we need not fear. We live in His shadow, and though the storm howls around us, we can rest in perfect peace.
