Dear God, just wanted to let You know that You had better check on your garden hose.  I think someone left it running, and we don’t need any more rain in Arkansas.  Okay?  Okay.  Oh, and we wouldn’t hate some sunshine either.  Thank You!

Obviously this note to Heaven is tongue-in-cheek, but I think the general sentiment holds true—not just for my family and me, but for all of us who inhabit the currently flood-ridden areas.  Just look at the date—April 1.  We’re ready for warm sunshine, fleecy clouds, beautiful blooms, and sweet afternoons in the garden.  Days of steel-grey clouds and dripping trees seem like the antithesis of all our hopes.

I have to admit that the rain, though unwelcome, is expected.  Always, as winter melts into the first green grass and gentle winds, the rains begin.  We even refer to them as “equinoctial rains” because of their uncanny timing right around the vernal equinox.  And over the past few weeks, there have been far more soggy days than sunny ones. 

And frankly, I’m done.  So done (in what seems to be modern slang’s ultimate expression of exasperation).  You see, at first, it was actually a bit exciting.  The rain annually signals the beginning of spring, so when the frowning clouds first moved in, I saw them as a promise of a season to come.  More than that, the rain itself was subtly, sweetly poetic—the silver sheets washing all the frost of winter from the delicately greening hillsides, the rushing sound of the droplets in comforting background noise, the new shoots and swelling buds drinking in the moisture. 

But now?  Now I can’t see that beauty in it.  Now it is just a major inconvenience, for several reasons.  First of all, it’s seriously inhibiting my outdoor activities.  Although I know many people who enjoy running or hiking in rainy conditions, I’m not one of them.  And even during the rare moments when rain isn’t falling, the constant threat of imminent showers remains, so trying to plan outdoor activities for rain-free times is tenuous.  Even with my best efforts, I’ve been caught more times than I’d prefer in a spring shower while running; I’ve grimly slogged home with shoes squishy and clothes cold and heavy and a general, unmistakable resemblance to a drowned rat. 

But the rain isn’t just inconvenient; it’s also dangerous.  The bodies of water in this region are sated with rainwater, spilling over their banks.  There’s concern about weakened levees and overtaxed dams.  Even the humble creek in my backyard looks more like a raging river than a gentle stream right now; its waters are coffee-colored with sediment, and it’s at least four times its normal width.  Also, I know it only gets worse from this point.  Today marks the official beginning of severe weather season.  All too soon, this annoying rain will be accompanied by the rollercoaster of severe weather in Arkansas—powerful thunderstorms, gale-force winds, tornados, and even the occasional hurricane meandering up from the Gulf. 

So yes, we are all so done, and for those blessed souls who don’t live in flooded areas and want to offer “encouragement” to those of us who do, here are some friendly tips.  Don’t tell us the weather forecast is showing improvement for next week; we are emotionally fragile, and we can’t handle false hope at this point.  Don’t make jokes about Noah’s ark; we’ve heard them all, and they are not funny.  And for goodness’ sakes, do not, do not, tell us that “April showers bring May flowers.” 

Because I’m tired of this rain.  I want it to move on.  I’m ready to trade the rainy season for sunny skies.  I want my creek to stop being transformed into the muddy Mississippi.  I want to walk through the yard without the ground making squishing noises.  I want the puddles in my driveway to leave and the low-hanging scowling clouds to lighten.  And most of all, I do not want to be running two miles away from my house and hear the dreaded pattering sound of a curtain of rain moving in my direction.

This is how I’ve felt for awhile now.  But the other day, something occurred to me that has begun to change my perspective on rain.

I was picking my way across my soaked yard, trying to keep mud off my shoes and muttering to myself about the rotten weather, when this Bible verse popped into my head:  “I will send down the showers in their season; they shall be showers of blessing” (Ezekiel 34:26b ESV).

At first I rolled my eyes and dismissed it as an ironic attempt at humor by my subconscious.  But then I remembered something important about rain, and about why it was considered a sign of God’s favor. 

You see, Israel is not a fertile land.  More than sixty percent of it is a desert wasteland, and even the portions of the country that are suitable for agriculture have been enhanced by Israeli scientists and farmers; Israel is famous for ingenuity in irrigation techniques.  In Biblical times, the Jews, living at a subsistence level, were at the mercy of the rainfall to ensure their defense against starvation.  No rain translated to no crops and thus no food. 

So important was rain that God included sending seasonal rains as part of His gift to the people in return for their obedience.  And so desperate were the people for the rain that they unfortunately seldom waited for God’s timing.  Instead, they often turned to pagan rituals and superstitions to try to force demons to send the rain that God would have freely provided, if they’d only waited. 

This much I already knew from Bible studies and sermons.  But the other day, as I grimaced at my saturated yard, I had a sudden realization:  rain, in and of itself, was not the blessing.  In fact, it was probably downright unpleasant, much as rain is today.  Yet it still symbolized God’s blessing, for this simple reason:  although it was not the miracle, it was the preparation for the miracle.  The gift of the harvest would have been impossible without the trial of the rain.

We don’t have to live in a flood zone to have rainy seasons in our lives.  There are days when we run out of patience, weeks when gratitude feels far away, months of waiting for a breakthrough, and sometimes whole years when we don’t want to get out of bed.  And as we plod through these rainy seasons, it seems only natural to ask for sunshine.  God, why aren’t You listening to me?  God, I need peace!  God, please heal me!  God, make this go away. 

But the sun doesn’t arrive, and our hearts continue to be pelted by cold, hard rain.  Rain that soaks into our souls and crushes the feeble sprigs of hope and forces us to watch all our dreams of how life should be floating away on a swollen river of despair.  And in those times, showers of blessing seems like a cruel joke.  In everything give thanks makes us cringe.  All things work together for good fills us with rage.  This, a blessing?  This, something to return thanks for?  No way!

But what if we could look at things with a different perspective?  What if we could remember the reason for the rain?

Think back again to that verse:  “[T]hey shall be showers of blessing.”  It’s fascinating to me that God didn’t say “harvest of blessing.”  He didn’t say “crops of blessing.”  He essentially asked for the people’s gratitude for the harvest before they saw the harvest.  When the crop they needed was still out of reach and the sky was dark with rainclouds, they were to praise Him then.  And why?  Because by doing so, they demonstrated their trust in Him and their belief that what He had sent, although it might seem unpleasant, was exactly what they needed. 

I’m not saying it’s easy.  I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt.  I’m certainly not saying it always makes sense.  But what I am saying is this:  sometimes what we think is the darkest, blackest situation is actually the introduction to the miracle.

Just as the harvest would not be possible without the rain, so often great victories in our lives would not be possible without trials and suffering.  The “rain” that drowns our joy might not be a setback.  It might actually be the foundation for something marvelous.

In the glorious economy of the Creator, nothing in the universe is wasted.  Every tear, every moment of pain, is carefully sown back into our lives like seed into fertile ground.  When we pass through difficult times, God is preparing us, not punishing us.  If only we could see from His perspective, we’d realize that the very things in our lives that make us feel most abandoned are often the very things that should make us feel the most loved, because they are setting the stage for our miracle. 

How does this happen?  How does the “rain” in our lives create space for the harvest?  Sometimes, it’s God’s tool to mold our characters, whether through washing away sinful tendencies or simply strengthening His work in our lives.  After all, it is in difficult times that our faith, our courage, and our dependence on God are deepened.  With no opportunities to practice being brave, or patient, or trusting, we would have only a shallow faith.  As I look back over the difficult patches of my life, I realize that God has grown me tremendously during those seasons as compared to days when circumstances were more pleasant and growth didn’t seem as vital.

Other times, God is enriching our testimony.  “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).  We wallow in misery during our rainy seasons, but when the monsoon is over, we find that we have developed a depth of empathy and understanding for other rain-soaked souls.  Sometimes in our rainy seasons, we are living the testimony that one day others will need to hear.  Our cross to bear is also our story to share.

And at still other times, it is in the rain that God is realigning our circumstances—cutting some threads of the story while adding others to weave the glorious tapestry He has planned.  The painful breakup you’re struggling with now might be designed to protect you from a marriage to someone who doesn’t share your priorities.  The unwanted diagnosis might be a cue to focus on your health before additional years of bad habits could accumulate.  The cross-country move for your work might be the way God introduces you to a wonderful new friend.  These are the times when we question God’s wisdom now, but later we look back and say “Aha!  Now I see…”

Building our character, deepening our story, rewriting our life—there’s so much good in the way God uses the rain.  No, it may not be a blessing right now—but it’s the preamble to one.  And when we view the rain in that light, it changes everything.  We understand Bible verses like “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18 ESV).  We nod when we read, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds” (James 1:2 ESV).  Not because the rain is pleasant.  Not because it’s what we prayed for.  Not because He doesn’t empathize with our pain or enjoys seeing us suffer.  But because the rain is a sign.  Look!  The miracle!  It’s on its way!  Not now…but soon…  Right now all we see is rain.  But we can rejoice, because harvest is coming.

And so, here in Arkansas, the ground is still mushy.  The creek is still turgid.  The trees are drippy and the sky is frowning.  But somehow, I’m not as irritated by the rain.  Because you know what?  That hackneyed adage is true after all.  I see April showers now, but I know those May flowers are on the way.

Did you enjoy this blog? What have you learned from the rainy seasons in your life? Let me know in the comments!

It’s with gratitude, humility, and joy that I tell you this good news: today marks the one-year anniversary of Words from the Wilderness! I’m so blessed to be able to share my writing and thoughts in this way, and it wouldn’t be possible without your love and support. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart as well as invite you to a very special Facebook Live anniversary party at 7:00 p.m. CDT on Friday, April 3! I’ll be sharing highlights from the last year, reading my writings, and offering you a special free gift. In this uncertain time, it will be an evening of encouragement and hope. Don’t miss the fun–RSVP here!