Rain. For some reason I love the rain. It seems to bring peace. As a kid, when I would spend time with my grandparents, one of our favorite things to do when it would rain was to sip coffee on the front porch as a storm would roll in. It’s still one of my favorite things. The sound of the drops on the ground brings comfort to my soul. I can’t explain it. When others see dreariness and depression, I see hope. Maybe because I know that means God has not forgotten the ground, the plants, the earth. Maybe because after weeks of a drought, his rain brings healing to the earth. Maybe because rain brings relief from the relentless heat of the summer sun. Maybe because after the rain, the plants seem to look up to the sky as if to say, “thank you,” to their maker.
I have felt the scorching heat on my back for several months, my drought. I have been silent. Every time I’ve tried to “pick up the pen” I’ve not had the strength or the words to say. I’ve been so broken-hearted. We’ve poured our lives into ministry and people and we were torn apart. We saw the ugliness of ministry and the hard hearts of those who claimed His name. And when we didn’t think it could get any worse, it did. That’s when I fell into a depression and a state I had never really known. Some might call it “situational depression.” God has more for you, they said. God has different plans for you, they said. How are you? They asked, and for the first time I couldn’t bring myself to say, “good.” I longed for the day I could say good and mean it or at least lie and maybe convince myself.
The days and nights seemed to blur and life became something completely different than what I knew. For the first time in my life my servant heart was broken. I was angry. I was bitter. How could life go on and people move on while we were still in this state? Still in pieces? Discarded? I’ve always told people after they’ve experienced a loss that “the rest of the world will move on before you’re ready,” and now we were experiencing that ourselves and it made me angry, made me broken, and just made me want to cry out, “why God?”
I tried to just hide, blend in, go unnoticed. But that was impossible. Everywhere I went people asked questions. I was faced with my anger and bitterness on a daily basis. Ever felt like there was an elephant in the room? An uncomfortable silence? Everyone staring at you? I had these feelings everywhere I went. Wanting to tell the truth, wanting to cry out from brokenness but always hiding…always protecting others from hurt, but who was protecting me?
Then came the rain, the relief, the healing. He was always there, protecting me, saving me, healing me. Letting me know that I was going to be okay. We were going to be okay. I always knew that. When you stand for truth and follow His will, you could lose all in this life and still gain everything, gain Him. He is worth it every time.
Maybe that’s why I love the rain. God’s promise that he never forgets, always gives hope, restores what’s been broken. What else would explain how a plant can begin to wilt, but when drinks the rain, is restored to life?
So it’s time to sit back and allow the healing power of the rain to soothe my weary soul; it’s time to pick up the pen and not be silent anymore…about His story of restoration. Please understand that I am not anywhere near fixed; for right now I’m just drinking the rain and looking to the sky.
“When the rain comes it seems that everyone has gone away—When the night falls you wonder if you shouldn’t find someplace to run and hide, Escape the pain—But hiding’s such a lonely thing to do.” Third Day: When the Rain Comes