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The Daily Devotional
Wednesday, May 20, 2026
The Shelter of God in the Storm
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” — Psalm 46:1
Reflection
May 20, 2013, is a date I will never forget. That was the day a violent EF5 tornado tore through Moore, Oklahoma, bringing sudden devastation, deep grief, and lasting trauma to central Oklahoma. Twenty-four people lost their lives, hundreds were injured, and entire neighborhoods were changed in a matter of minutes. Homes, schools, streets, and familiar landmarks became places of rescue, lament, and painful remembering.
For me, that day is not only something I read about in the news. I was there, just east of the Moore/Oklahoma City area, visiting my daughter when the tornado outbreak happened. The danger became close enough that I had to vacate the area. My motorhome was damaged when the top of a tree broke off and struck it. That kind of memory stays with you. Not simply because of the damage done to property, but because it reminds you how quickly the ordinary can become uncertain. One moment you are visiting family, making plans, watching the sky. The next, you are seeking safety, changing direction, and realizing again how fragile life can be.
Psalm 46:1 does not tell us that trouble will never come. It does not promise that the sky will always remain calm, that homes will never fall, or that grief will not find its way to our doorstep. Instead, it gives us a stronger promise: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” The verse meets us honestly. Trouble is real. Fear is real. Loss is real. But God is not distant from those realities. God is present within them.
A refuge is not the absence of danger. A refuge is a place of shelter when danger is near. Strength is not the denial of weakness. Strength is what holds us when our own strength is not enough. A very present help is not a vague religious idea for easier days. It is the nearness of God when sirens sound, when phone calls do not go through, when families wait for news, when neighbors stand in the rubble, and when tears come before words.
In the aftermath of a storm, you often see a sermon lived out in ordinary places. People step outside before they even fully understand what has happened. They check on the elderly neighbor. They clear a path through broken branches. They bring bottled water, blankets, tools, sandwiches, work gloves, and flashlights. Someone with a chainsaw helps someone without one. Someone with a truck hauls debris. Someone with no special equipment stands beside a grieving family and simply refuses to leave them alone.
That is not a small thing. In those moments, community becomes a visible mercy. No one can undo the storm, but love can enter the wreckage. No one can erase the loss, but compassion can keep sorrow from becoming isolation. No one can rebuild everything in a day, but faithful hands can lift one board, clear one room, make one phone call, prepare one meal, and pray one trembling prayer at a time.
As I remember that day, I am reminded that this is often how God’s help becomes visible. Not always as the immediate removal of hardship, but as the steady presence that strengthens people to endure, serve, lament, and rebuild. God’s nearness may come through first responders running toward danger, teachers protecting children, families opening their homes, churches becoming shelters, strangers becoming neighbors, and weary people discovering enough grace for the next step.
The Christian faith gives us permission to lament. We do not honor God by pretending devastation does not hurt. We do not comfort the grieving by explaining away their sorrow. Scripture gives us room to weep, to remember, to ask hard questions, and to sit quietly before God when words are too heavy. The same Bible that says God is our refuge also tells us to weep with those who weep. Faith is not the refusal to grieve. Faith is trusting that grief is not beyond the reach of God.
On this day of remembrance, I believe the invitation is simple and sacred: become part of God’s sheltering mercy for someone else. Check on someone who has been through a storm, whether that storm was weather, illness, grief, disappointment, loneliness, or fear. Make room for lament without rushing to fix it. Offer practical help without needing recognition. Be the kind of neighbor who shows up. Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is clear a little debris from another person’s path and remind them, by our presence, that they are not alone.
The Moore tornado reminds me that life can change in minutes. Psalm 46 reminds me that God’s presence does not vanish when life changes. The storm may be sudden, the loss may be deep, and the rebuilding may be slow, but God remains our refuge and strength. In trouble, in grief, in rescue, in recovery, and in the long work of healing, God is very present.
Prayer
God of refuge and strength, we remember all who suffered in the central Oklahoma tornado outbreak, especially those who lost loved ones, homes, safety, and peace on May 20, 2013. Hold close those who still carry grief from that day, and give tenderness to all whose memories are stirred by disaster and loss. Teach us not to rush past sorrow, but to meet it with compassion, patience, and faithful love. Make us willing neighbors in the storms of life—ready to check on the hurting, help rebuild what has been broken, and bear Your light into places of fear and pain. When trouble comes, remind us that You are very present, and when others are in trouble, help us become signs of Your sheltering mercy. Amen.
Devotional by: Kenny Sallee, ThM — Deming, NM, USA
The Bible texts are from the World English Bible (WEB), which is a Public Domain Modern English translation of the Holy Bible. The World English Bible is based on the American Standard Version (ASV) of the Holy Bible, first published in 1901, the Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia Old Testament, and the Greek Majority Text New Testament. It is in draft form and is currently being edited for accuracy and readability. All rights reserved.
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