Thunder grumbles all around. The storm’s fury is drained, lightning trails dragging their bedraggled tails through the sodden sky above.
The dragon has flown away. For now. Moments ago, it blazed through the sky, dropping stones of ice and frightening the earthbound denizens of the tiny communities below with screaming winds and threats of rotating clouds.
But, even as I write, the wind moans around the doors and windows anew, a reminder that the dragon is not dead, but only gathering strength—this being the season of rain and wind.
I used to love the storms. I still do, but don’t tell my friends.
It is a guilty pleasure of mine, standing and watching the lowering clouds blowing in from the west, listening to the raucous downpour against the metal roof while anticipating the greens of the fields and the wildly variegated colors of the wildflowers on the wooded hillsides, all dependent upon the moisture the dragons leave behind for us.
But there is terror still. And danger. I feel the collective fear from those awaiting the warning siren’s call to seek refuge and shelter.
I care about that, too. But mostly, about them.
Shall we always be torn between the two? Safety and danger? Drought and ample rainfall? Famine and plenty?
Sadness and great joy.
It’s the week we remember that in a much more fundamental way. At least for those of us who claim to follow Jesus, it is a week of remembering overwhelming joy and elation. And a week of remembering breathtaking loss and defeat.
And, come the new week, it will be a time of celebrating unimaginable jubilation and great wonder.
Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem; Joy and anticipation!
The Last Supper and the Garden, and the trials followed by the crucifixion: Crippling anguish and the loss of dreams of conquest.
Resurrection dawning: Awe and splendor without end!
When the dragon is rampant, we believe that our hardships will never stop. A dark, unending tunnel that winds into ever-deepening blackness.
We’ve all been there. Oh, not like His followers experienced in this week in history. But we’ve been in the black hole with the dragon raging overhead.
The older I grow, the more I am aware of the dichotomy—ever-present and ever-looming. Great joy and great sadness, one after the other, a seeming never-ending parade.
But, if this week in history reminds us of nothing else, it is that dragons will be defeated. Perhaps only temporarily in this lifetime.
But, the day is coming…
No more night. Never again will the dragon fly.
I’ll wait. With you, I’ll wait.
Even if the rain is pounding on the roof again.
“Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?”
(from Were You There?, African-American spiritual)
“Nature is mortal; we shall outlive her. When all the suns and nebulae have passed away, each one of you will still be alive…We are summoned to pass in through Nature, beyond her, into that splendour which she fitfully reflects.
And in there, in beyond Nature, we shall eat of the tree of life.”
(from The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis)
© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2025. All Rights Reserved.