This morning, I woke to the sound of thunder and it brought me back to one of my very first childhood memories.

It was nighttime and I was laying on a futon in my parent’s guest bedroom, watching lightening light up the sky during a torrential downpour. I remember being awed by the raw power of the storm, the blinding flashes of lightening followed by the deafening rumble of thunder. In a world that often felt safe and sanitized, it was uncontrollable, uncontainable power.

My mom was watching the storm with me and at some point, our conversation turned to God. She pointed to the lightening and told me, “God’s like that. He’s more powerful than you could ever imagine. You can’t control Him. Can’t contain Him. But you don’t need to be afraid of Him, because He loves you more than you could ever imagine.”

As I lay there watching the rain fall, my small understanding of God began to expand. He was far more than some genie in a bottle that I could call upon to make my wishes come true. He was the author of Creation, the one who spoke the world into existence and who holds it together by the power of His will. You can’t control someone like that. You can’t dictate what He does. And yet, as powerful as God is, He not only knows me but He loves me. That night, in the middle of a thunderstorm, I made the decision to call the God of the universe the LORD of my life. And that decision has shaped every day since.

Now, almost four decades later, I know a lot more than I did that night. I know about the natural dynamics that cause thunderstorms, and yet I’m still very much awed by the raw power on display. Similarly, I’ve learned a lot about the one who created me. And yet, the more I learn the more I’m awed that the one who spoke the world into existence would call me by name. And that no matter how much I misunderstand and misrepresent Him, He still loves me.

He feels the same way about you. You may never fully understand God and you certainly can’t dictate what He does. But He loves you more than you could ever comprehend.