Imagine a friend of yours posted the following to Facebook:
"My husband, who is really big and strong, went on a bender last night and got really violent and destructive. Before it was all over, he had beaten up several of my neighbors, wrecked a couple of houses, and killed a couple of people in the next town over. This just reminds me of how mighty he is, and how insignificant I am in the grand scheme of things. I am so grateful to him for sparing our family and home. He is so good and I love him so much!"
A reasonable person, upon hearing this, would likely conclude that the woman speaking is 1) off her rocker and/or meds; 2) in the thrall of an incredibly abusive relationship; or 3) both. A true friend would insist that she leave her husband, and seek help.
And yet if you change "my husband" to "God", you get...well, almost exactly what a lot of people have written about the storms that tore through the South last night. (Being originally from that corner of the country, I have no shortage of people in my feed who spent the night hunkered down in basements and closets. As far as I know, everyone is fine, and I am happy for it.)
I guess I understand having a need to believe in some sort of higher power, even though I have no such need myself. And it is only human to want to make sense of the senseless. But I find it really hard not to pity someone who has to shoehorn the indifference of nature--the destructive power of a tornado, the pitiless rise of a tsunami, or the painful cruelty of cancer--into a conception of a God that manages everything that happens and takes a personal interest in your individual life and well-being.
Either God doesn't actually have a hand in all of this, or he is one seriously abusive son of a bitch.