​They had lived by that river for decades and thought they knew it.  But when the St. Vrain ripped through town, uprooting and destroying rouses, roads and utility plants, they realized they didn’t know the half of it, not really.  Because it happened in the dead of night, most could only hear it.  Sounded like the roar of an enormous frieight train, they said.  The sound of unbridled power.  Like the voice of Jesus. 

Nobody knew Jesus better than the Apostle John.  But he didn’t know the half of Jesus’ power.  And when Jesus gave him more of a glimpse, John collapsed in fear.  He recalled the experience like this:

The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters.  (Revelation 1:14-15)
“The roar of many waters…”   That phrase grabs me, stops me, pulls me back to try to grasp what John was expressing.  Hmmm…  Perhaps this: If you think you know Jesus, remember that we cannot know the half of Who He really is, the half of His unbridled power.