“God thunders marvelously with His voice; He does great things which we cannot comprehend.” — Job 37:5
The Majesty of God in the Storm

As thunder rolls in the background and lightning flashes across the sky, Elihu lifts his voice to describe the power and wonder of God: “At this also my heart trembles, and leaps from its place” (v. 1). Nature is not just weather—it is testimony. “Hear attentively the thunder of His voice, and the rumbling that comes from His mouth. He sends it forth under the whole heaven, His lightning to the ends of the Earth” (vv. 2-3). Elihu is not merely speaking of meteorology; he’s inviting Job to consider that the God who governs storms also governs suffering.
Elihu declares, “He does great things we cannot comprehend” (v. 5). This is the heart of his theology: God is not small; His ways are higher. His voice is like thunder—not because He’s cruel but because He’s vast. And in His greatness, God uses nature to teach humility, to command stillness, and to display His sovereign rule. Snow, rain, wind, and cold are not arbitrary—they are governed by the hand of the Creator.
If you’ve ever stood beneath a darkened sky, hearing the distant roll of thunder and watching lightning tear across the heavens, you’ve witnessed a small glimpse of what Elihu is describing. The storm does not answer our questions—it overwhelms them. And sometimes, that is grace. In seasons of suffering, we often long for an explanation, but what we truly need is a revelation of God’s greatness over our suffering. The storm reminds us that we are not in control, and that the One who is rules with power too vast for us to fathom. In this realization, there is both trembling and peace.
And yet, the majesty of the storm is not meant to terrify us into silence but to humble us into trust. When your life feels like a storm—chaotic, dark, and relentless—remember the same God who governs the lightning also governs your days. He is not absent from turmoil; He is speaking through it. His voice may not always bring immediate clarity, but it always carries the authority of love. You don’t need to understand the storm to be held by the One who commands it. In Christ, the storm does not have the final word—the Word made flesh does.
The Stillness Before God Speaks

“He seals the hand of every man, that all men may know His work” (v. 7). Elihu suggests storms are more than spectacle—they are sacred pauses. When God speaks through thunder or silence, He commands our attention. The frozen earth and falling snow become incarnations of stillness. Elihu urges Job to “stand still and consider the wondrous works of God” (v. 14). When suffering clouds the heart, when answers remain hidden, and when grief weighs heavy—stand still.
Elihu doesn’t offer easy answers. Instead, he offers reverence. “By the breath of God ice is given, and the broad waters are frozen… He comes from the north as golden splendor; with God is awesome majesty” (vv. 10, 22). Elihu’s vision of God has grown from courtroom Judge to cosmic King. And he invites Job to see not just as God who answers arguments but a God who moves in mystery, who governs creation with infinite wisdom and power.
If your life feels suspended in silence—where prayers seem unanswered and your soul waits in weariness—know that stillness is not the absence of God, but often the threshold of His presence. Elihu reminds us that God stills creation before He speaks. Snow halts the world. Storms quiet the Earth. And sometimes, God halts you. Not as punishment, but as preparation. That silence you feel may not be abandonment—it may be the breath before the Spoken Word. The God who commands the clouds can command your chaos, too. And when He speaks, it is never too soon and never too late.
We live in a world addicted to noise and movement, yet the voice of God is most often heard when we are still. “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). This is not a suggestion but a summons. Stillness is not merely passive—it’s an act of trust. It says, “I will not strive to force an answer. I will wait for the One who speaks truth.” If you’re standing still in grief, confusion, or exhaustion, do not despair. That stillness may be the sacred pause before the whirlwind (38:1). And in Christ, we know this: the God who speaks from the storm also whispers peace to the weary. He has not forgotten you. He is only preparing to be heard.
The Invitation to Humble Worship
“As for the Almighty, we cannot find Him; He is excellent in power, in judgement and abundant justice; He does not oppress. Therefore, men, fear Him; He shows no partiality to any who are wise of heart” (vv. 23-24). Elihu’s conclusion is not despair but worship. We cannot fully understand God, but we can bow before Him. His justice is not always immediate, but it is never absent. He is not obligated to explain Himself, yet He is always righteous. And even when He’s hidden, He is never absent.
This is the turning point. Elihu has prepared the way for the whirlwind. His final words are a call to humility—a reminder that God’s silence does not mean God’s absence, and that God’s power is not a threat to faith but the very foundation of it. Elihu urges Job, and us, to lay down our demands and wait; for the God who thunders will soon speak.
Job 37 closes with reverence instead of the expected resolution. Elihu does not answer Job’s questions, but he does redirect them. He lifts Job’s eyes from his wounds to the heavens. He reminds Job that God is not only just but incomprehensibly great. And that greatness is not meant to distance us from God but to draw us to worship. The storm now surrounds Job, but in that storm, God is not far—He is near.
Elihu’s final speech is a summons to stillness. When the winds rise and the sky darkens, it may be that God is near—not to destroy, but to reveal. Stand still. Let the thunder humble you. Let the snow silence you. Let the awe of God’s voice prepare you to hear the Word made flesh, the voice that speaks not only in power but in mercy—Jesus Christ, the wisdom of God, who comes not in wrath but with redemption.
