Surprising Grace

There is a typhoon tonight. We have closed all the windows and doors, but you can still hear it - the rain battering down, yes, but the wind - ah, that incredible wind - a constant roar, all around you in the dark. It is the kind of wind that brings down branches of trees and rips off roofs. Still, what we have here is only what they raise a 'signal 2' warning for. 'Signal 3' is being raised down in the south, where the full strength of the typhoon is passing, and where there has already been fierce destruction. Earlier today I had been frustrated about the slow progress of some work I'd been doing, intending to pick it up after dinner, but once the storm rose it hardly seemed important. We sat in the chapel for a while, lighting a few candles and simply listening to the storm. Prayer is wordless at a time like this, the words or concepts you might usually use dissolving in the raw power of nature around you. Your thoughts go to those who are suffering... But p...

This post was written on Saturday, 15 September 2018. A woman in Baggao, Philippines, where typhoon Mangkhut made landfall with winds of 205 km/h. ( Source ) As I write this, supertyphoon Mangkhut – what they say is the strongest typhoon of the year – is passing to the north of us. We have been expecting it for a while now – the weather these few days has been still, heavy and foreboding – and last night when we were asleep the rains and winds started. While we are not directly in the path of the storm, the power of the winds lashing the trees and houses is still awesome to behold. It also inspires fear. It strips away the illusion we usually have of control, and exposes our fundamental vulnerability before nature. My prayer this morning as I listened to the wind was a very uncomfortable one. I was uncomfortably aware that I was sitting safe and dry in a sturdy house with plenty of provisions to ride out the storm, but that countless other people in the same city were huddled ...

As I sit here writing, rain is pouring in sheets outside. Not any ordinary rain, but what Filipinos call “habagat” (monsoon rain), made stronger by the tail end of a typhoon. I had never feared rain before living in the Philippines, even the thunder and lightning storms that came so often to my native Singapore. However strong the rain, you never worried for your safety. Here, though, I have learnt a better reverence for the forces of nature. The Philippines experiences an average of 20 typhoons every year. I remember sitting and looking out the window during my first serious typhoon, with the electricity out, awed by the force of the winds lashing the trees outside. In the evening, when the storm had quieted and we could venture out again, the neighbours were also emerging from their houses and there was a sense of camaraderie on the street. People took out their radios and sat around. Later on, we heard the stories of trees falling across roads and roofs being blown off and, in ...