Pondering - Global Climate management

Snavely and I were walking along the path yesterday when the afternoon rain started.  We took shelter in a coffee shop, which are plentiful here in Guatemala.  As we sipped our brews and watched the rain fall in the shop's garden, Snavely pondered that, if we were able to control the climate, he would have called for the rain to wait until we were finished with our walk.  Yet a farmer, just finishing planting his corn crop, may have wanted the rain to come exactly when it did.  Still yet, a woman with laundry on the line would have wanted an entire day without rain. God's word says that the rain falls on the just and the unjust.  If man was able to control the enviroment, who would decide when it was supposed to rain, where it's to rain and when it was more convenient for it to wait - the just or the unjust?  He asked me if life isn't complicated enough without having to try to manage the weather to suit our will.  "We can't even control our own emotions, how are we going to control the weather?  Or, better yet, why would we want to?"  Then he got off into deeper waters.

Snavely pondered that, if man can't even control - or stop - one oil well from gushing oil into the sea, how on earth can man possibly think he can control the environment of the whole earth?  "Preposterous," he snorted, and turned to look out at the rain, now coming down harder.  I looked into my coffee cup  and waited for him to complete his thought.  "Pride," he said, "is a bitter root, and man is filled with it, like an overgrown plant in a small pot. God hates the proud and the arrogant.  Being transplanted to a larger pot is very stressful for a plant.  It depends more on the farmer for water and nourisment and attention after it's been transplanted." 

There was a break in the rain.  We stepped outside, inhaled the sweet air and continued our walk.  Then Snavely said, "That's what God's doing, you know.  The world is in turmoil because God is transplanting us. He's breaking roots off the prideful."  He stopped, turned to me and said, "Now is a time to press into the Farmer more than ever. Just like plants transplanted , those who press into the Farmer will survive.  Those who don't will struggle.  Some will survive and some won't. You and me, my friend, we know who is our source - the Good Farmer.  Stay close to him and we will make it through this storm no matter how bad it gets." 

We turned and strolled together down the damp path toward home.