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We moved to Virginia from the Gulf Coast in 1988, thinking we left hurricanes behind—wrong. Yes, we’re miles from the Atlantic. However, last week was another round of rain and wind battering us as the remnants of a hurricane worked northward.

It reminded me that 41 years ago this week, Alicia suddenly mushroomed into a hurricane in August of 1983 off the coast of Texas and hit close to our house as a category 3 about 24 hours later. Alicia was the first major hurricane to form in the Gulf of Mexico in six years. It caused 22 tornadoes, concentrated around the Galveston-Houston areas. Although small in diameter, this powerful storm caused significant destruction in Greater Houston. No, it wasn’t as bad as others since that time, but it gave me a measuring stick for how bad they can be.

Growing up in Tornado-Alley Oklahoma, I knew what wind and rain could do. However, I didn’t understand the storm surge. For Alicia, they estimated peak wind gusts at 130 mph when Alicia hit land, with a storm surge of up to 12 feet in Galveston Bay and other bays in the area around the ship channel. However, we had been warned that bays or rivers can funnel the water even higher. The storm surge is on the side where the wind comes racing across the water to shove the water against the land and into the bays. Picture 12 feet of storm surge water above the regular tide height and with wave action on top of everything.

It wreaked havoc. The wind, wave action, and storm surge destroyed many of the large 300 or more houses in the lovely upscale subdivision of Brownwood, located on a riverfront peninsula.

Our friends living in Brownwood were preparing for their daughter’s departure for college. They raced to transport her college stuff to a safe place. Then, they returned to rescue whatever else they could in their short time window. On the third trip back, part of their house had already succumbed to wind and wave action, and their family pictures were now floating on top of the water inside what remained of their home. Following the hurricane, they returned to only a concrete slab. Everything had washed away.

This mental image of the power of storm surge and its flood waters shook me hard when I learned of it later. The formerly beautiful homes of many doctors, lawyers, engineers, and oil executives in Brownwood were declared uninhabitable after Alicia. They were not allowed to rebuild. A decade later, the land was turned into a nature center. 

However, I was naive regarding all this during the night of the hurricane as the wind and rain pounded so loud I couldn’t sleep. Not understanding what could happen, I diligently prayed for three things. Our two sons topped the list, for they were on their way back home from the East Coast with a friend. This happened before cell phones and they were camping along the way. Since they were due to arrive home when the hurricane suddenly appeared, I didn’t know if they even knew about it. We couldn’t contact them and wondered if they would stop somewhere or drive into the storm in the dark. 

My other two repeated prayer requests involved asking the Lord to keep his hand on two things and keep them on the ground so they wouldn’t become dangerous projectiles in the wind—because I understood the power of the wind. 

One next-door neighbor had cut down one of her trees, and it was scheduled for city pickup—on the day the hurricane formed. However, the sudden hurricane meant the city had to scramble to get ready and left the pile of wood stacked at the curb a few feet from our houses.

My other concern was our metal shed in the backyard, which held all our firewood, lawn mower, and outdoor furniture. In my imagination, I could imagine some of those things being hurled like projectiles in the wind.

Our residential block consisted of two rows of houses, with our large backyards abutting since there was no alley between them. Tall fences obscured vision, so many had never met their neighbors behind them. However, the storm removed the fences and everything along that path.

After the storm had passed, people spilled out of their homes to survey the damage and discovered a strange new world. (In my last blog, Tree Analogy #2, Hanging Sod, I described some of the trees and wreckage.) The following days evolved into a beehive of neighbors helping each other.

Two men from directly behind us came to inspect our shed because after the fences vanished, they said they had been watching our shed rise and fall during the hurricane. They laughed and told us they had made bets several times on whether it would blow away. They would get excited each time they saw it lifting up into the air. One would shout, “It’s gonna blow,” but the other said, “It was as if a giant hand kept pushing it back to the ground—again and again—just as it looked like it would blow away.” I was shocked. He used the exact descriptive words I had prayed, even though he didn’t know it.

Earlier in our conversation, I mentioned praying for three things: our sons to get home safely, the pile of wood at the curb to stay on the ground, and our storage shed not releasing its contents into the wind as missiles. 

We gathered around our shed and saw how it had “walked” about a foot off its concrete foundation but kept all its contents inside. We gazed in silent awe. Then, one of the men glancing around, noticed our sons were safely home helping with clean-up and that the pile of tree parts at the front curb was undisturbed. When he realized my three specific prayers had been answered, he looked me straight in the eyes and asked, “Why didn’t you pray specifically for more things to be protected?”

The earnestness of his question felt like a rebuke that penetrated deep. I didn’t even know how bad things could be for some. Today, I wonder how you or I will feel a few years from now if someone looks us in the eyes and asks, “Why didn’t you specifically pray bigger prayers as the cultural storm ravaged America?” 

Although mercy and truth seem lost in our public discourse, even the incredible power of prayer appears to be lost on some of the righteous. Does the size of our specific prayers reflect how large or small we picture God? How big is your God? Isn’t the answer reflected in your specific prayers?

May we hunger to be in His Word, for it is His Word that will give us light regarding our situation and how to pray. We won’t accomplish anything without coming from a place of abiding with the Lord and spending time with Him. We must remember we’re in a marathon storm, not a sprint.     

Jesus said:

“If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” John 15:7 (ESV)

“But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” Luke 6:27-8 (ESV)