My husband and I learned early on in our relationship . . . every time we fought – it would rain. I used to liken it to God’s tears. So many times I found myself watching the beaded droplets dance down the window. I remember tracing them with my finger until I ran out of glass.
When it comes to the rain in our lives . . . we have seen our fair share of puddles. There have been times we wondered if we needed to build an ark and times we floated helplessly down a river with no life raft.
Sometimes I think it seems like the rain never stops in a marriage. But there is a season for everything under the sun, God says. A time to live, a time to die. A time for war and peace. Far too often, in our lives we choose war.
There will always be something that displeases us. Just like a springtime’s unpredictable weather . . . so is life. There is bound to be rain, destined to be thunderous blows – but I’ve learned that it is not the rain that matters. But where the rain falls and what the rain means can make all the difference.
I know God weeps when we treat our spouses as strangers, when we fall off the wagon, when we deny Him the things that make us beautiful. But in His tears is something precious. There is a precious grace that pours down diligently from heaven and reminds us to stop, to look, to reconsider our emotions and see this moment for exactly what it is . . .
A watering of the soil of our lives.
The rain falls on the just and the unjust. No matter how we strive for sunshine – at some point the storm will come. But in this assurance we can find redemption. If the rain falls on good soil, if we love one another, if we lean on Him, if we plant the seeds of righteousness . . . the rain can bring forth an abundance of harvest.
I will restore double to you, says the Lord. For the years the locusts have eaten.
We are two very passionate people he and I. We believe what we believe and we don’t like to be proven differently. Even when I’m wrong I want to be right. And even when he’s sorry . . . he can’t say it. We’ve been stubborn at best, sometimes thoughtless at worst . . . but in saying this there is a freedom isn’t there? There’s a revelation of something Christians too often forget.
I’ve came to set the captive free. Jesus said.
He didn’t just come to save our souls. He came to set me free. He came to set you free. He came so that we might have life more abundantly in our marriages, in our jobs, in our homes, in our health. He came to loosen the bondage of ailments, addictions, bickering, suffering, strongholds . . .
When I feel like the rain is too much I look to my Father. I ask Him what to tell the fields. As the rain falls and the water wells up into worm filled puddles . . . I ask Him what do I tell the shatters of my life . . . what do I tell these strongholds, these flooded vallies of despair? And He gently guides me, as Moses . . . Oh ye of little faith, He says . . . tell them that “I AM that I AM.”
I AM. That. I AM.
Is the rain falling on your life . . . If so I ask you to consider the beauty of the falling. I ask you to look past the hurt and the feeling of the impossible and live your life in expectancy. Consider the possibilities of a relationship He rescues. Consider the quality of a life He sustains. Look upon the beauty of a field that has had rain . . . it is always the lushest, the most extravagant, the most abundant.
May your harvest be double and your hearts be steadfast. Because even it when it pours . . . He reigns.