I used to have a fear of tornadoes. (Let’s just say that didn’t work out real well for someone living in the Midwest.) I can’t say it was a phobia or anything, just a dread of them. Over time, however, it has become more of a fascination.

I can remember one time when I was about 7 years old, we were at my grandma’s house playing some board games while dad watched the baseball game. I happened by the back window overlooking a field and a hill…and my breath was caught by what I saw. The sky was so dark. Reflexively I started backing away with my eyes glued to the clouds, and saying over and over again, “That doesn’t look good…”

My mom came to take a peek and immediately brushed it off and said, “honey it’s just a storm, it’s fine.” 

I stood there dumbfounded, and then she took a double-take.

“Uh…that is a tornado!” she proclaimed. Cue the scramble to get to the basement (Except for my dad, who like every other midwestern dad wanted to stay upstairs and watch and would prefer to be OUTSIDE on the patio, dodging flying cows). Before we even got there, we heard the sirens blaring outside and the funnel cloud had passed over. We were out of danger.

Our town was known for “the big one.” In 1990, a half-mile wide F5 tornado came through and erased the town, leveling everything in its path. The tragedy was that no one was warned– the sirens didn’t come on until half an hour after the tornado had touched down. 29 people died. Nobody knew it was coming. Ever since then, meteorologists, news agencies, and Chicagoan towns have worked so hard together to create warning systems, educate the people, and make them prepared for whatever comes along so that if we ever get another “big one,” we’ll be ready.

Fast forward thirty years. Technology has exploded in just about every way, from prediction technology to warning systems, broadcasting, and everywhere in between. One would think that, being thirty years down the road from such a disaster, the world of storm preparedness would have seen great improvements in educating the people and getting the word out when danger is on the way.

Except it hasn’t.

A few months after I married Christian and moved to the Nashville area, we were woken up at midnight by an alert on our phones. It was a tornado warning. My mind jumped into tornado protocol (in true Midwestern fashion)– the first thing to do is figure out if it’s real, if you’re in immediate danger, and where you’re going to shelter if you are. We turned on the TV– information wasn’t readily available. Local news stations had mentioned there was severe weather and that there was a tornado, but most weren’t reporting the details on if it was on the ground or if it was a funnel cloud, where it was, or where it was headed. It took us about 10 minutes of searching the TV stations and internet sites to find reliable information to base our preparations on.

Finally, we found a news channel only accessible from the internet that was reporting the details. The tornado was on the ground less than two miles from our house, and it was headed our way.

Then came the sinking realization– we didn’t have anywhere to go. 

My mind frantically went through all the options for the best sheltering spots– underground, interior rooms, fortified rooms if no interior rooms are available, rooms away from large trees… Our house was on concrete blocks, we didn’t have a basement. Our bathrooms were on outside walls, we didn’t have any “interior rooms.” Our house was surrounded by large trees that could fall on us. Our only option was the room on the opposite side of the direction the storm was coming from– our bedroom. Our best chance for safety was to stay in bed. There was absolutely nothing we could do to protect ourselves. 

So we prayed.

As we hunkered down and waited for the storm, we peeked out the window. Nothing was happening. Everything was completely still, too calm. No sirens were heard in the distance. As we crawled back in bed, the wind picked up. Light rain started, and then we heard the unmistakably eerie, guttural roar of the churning sky. As soon as it came, it was gone. We found out later the tornado had indeed touched down less than two miles from our house, completely flipped a house just like ours, dropped a tree on a house and killed a lady sleeping in her bed, and then lifted and passed directly over our house to drop back down on the other side of the highway. We were helpless, but God protected us so faithfully.

(Let’s just say 3 months later we moved to a house with a basement.)

Then came March 3rd, 2020. My husband and I live near Nashville, and we were up all night watching the weather. The National Weather Service had issued a Tornado Watch for our area, meaning conditions were right for tornadoes to be produced by some strong storms that were supposed to come through that night. As we laid awake in bed, I had the radar open on my phone. It was the best way I’d found to monitor the situation, as the local news stations weren’t reporting much on the threat. As the night wore on, the sounds of the wind and rain pounding into the side of the house mixed with loud rolls of thunder. At one point, we heard what we thought was that same ominous roaring of the wind–almost like we’d heard when the funnel passed over us the last time. Christian got an alert on his phone that said “the National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning,” but it was for a town almost an hour southwest of us and we weren’t in any immediate danger. Soon afterwards, the storm died down, and we drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, we awoke to the sun glittering through the rain-dampened trees, birds singing as they flitted through our backyard. We had no idea that just a few hours earlier, the city we knew and loved had been ravaged by a devastating force of nature that almost no one was warned about.

Turning on the local news on our phones, we saw familiar buildings that were now collapsed, metal wrapped around slanted telephone poles, roads littered with the remnants of homes and restaurants and barns and billboards– all just twenty miles away from us. There are no words for what we felt in that moment. We called and texted our friends who lived close to the path to see if they were okay, and thankfully they were. 

But unfortunately, many others weren’t okay.

24 men, women, and children died. They estimate the monetary damage was somewhere around $2 billion. People lost family members, homes, livelihoods, and peace of mind.

They didn’t know. 

Thirty years after “the big one” in Illinois– the event that coined the phrase “The Plainfield Effect” to describe when an area isn’t warned that a large, devastating tornado is coming until it’s too late– it happened again.

Nashville wasn’t prepared. The majority of houses in Tennessee don’t have basements because of the rocky ground. The towns have few sirens that aren’t even tested monthly, and aren’t loud enough to project over the hills so people can hear them. The news stations don’t know how to follow and report severe weather, and the people aren’t educated on severe weather preparedness. Most don’t know the difference between a “watch” and a “warning.” There were a few emergency alerts that went out on some isolated cell phones, and warnings on TV but those didn’t help when they weren’t consistent and a majority of the city’s power went out an hour before the tornado hit.

It was the perfect storm. They were all sleeping. No one knew it was coming.

Nobody woke them up.

What a shame, to have all this capability of warning the public of impending danger, only for it to not be used when it’s needed– and what an even greater shame that people died because of it. Almost outrageous, isn’t it? With the growth in technology and the ability to digitally predict dangerous weather and broadcast it to the public so they can get to safety, today there isn’t really a great excuse as to why many people in the paths of destructive storms don’t know until it’s too late. 

Why weren’t they warned?

Friends, I want to tell you the truth tonight.

There’s a storm coming. There are people that know, and they’re not warning anyone. There are people who have heard, and aren’t taking shelter. There are people who don’t want to know because it would affect their plans. There are people who would take shelter if they knew and would survive the coming storm, but no one is telling them. 

Maybe you’re in one of the categories I just listed. I know I am. I, myself, am feeling called out by this message. There are many reasons why the people who know the truth aren’t sharing it– maybe you’ve shared it before but the people you shared it to aren’t taking cover. Maybe you’re afraid the people you could share it with would rather not know, and would just get angry at you for saying something instead. Maybe you’re embarrassed, or distracted, or maybe you’re just not all that convinced yourself. Or you could be in the group of people that don’t want to hear the warning– you want to keep living your life the way you want to and don’t want anything to ruin your plans or how you feel about your life. You could think your shelter is good enough and decide to just hunker down where you are. 

There are endless reasons, but no good excuses. Because ultimately, regardless of the reasons warnings aren’t broadcasted, or heeded, the end result is the same– people die from a storm that they could have survived. Don’t be the reason someone doesn’t hear the warning of a storm that’s been forecasted for thousands of years. Don’t be the person that hears the warning and doesn’t take cover, or worse yet– encourages others to ignore the warning, too. 

The storm is almost here. This world is about to be destroyed entirely and forever, and the only safe shelter is in a personal saving relationship with Jesus Christ who gave His life and has reached out to every one of us in mercy every day of our lives, so that we could have a place to run to and be saved. 

Take shelter now. Tell others. It’s coming.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; though its waters roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with its swelling…the Lord of hosts is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge.” Psalm 46:1-3, 11.