DG-blog-header-June20-01 The skies clouded over in an ominous canopy. Rain saturated everything around us. Water bubbled-up from the ground as if it were a spring. It was the weekend that our new church was launching, and it was inscrutably rainy. We had planned a block party for our community, one final push to herald to our surrounding community that we were new. That we loved them. That we prayed for them. That we considered them family. I prayed for the skies to part. For a miracle on our behalf by our Heavenly Father to dry up to ground so that we could have a bounce house and mini-golf outside, beckoning the neighborhood kids around us and providing opportunity to share with them the life-giving Gospel that had called us to Ohio in the first place. I prayed that our games and activities would have an opportunity, that our block party wouldn't be a bust and a stain on our relationship with those in our neighborhood; that the onlookers wouldn't see us as flakey or fickle. But the rain still poured. It didn't stop all weekend.

"Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; His going out is sure as the dawn; He will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth." Hosea 6:3

DG-instas-June20-18- I've always liked the rain. I like listening to it on tin roofs. I like feelings the drops prick my head. I like the ubiquity of the gloom-colored atmosphere. I sort-of adopted this verse a couple years prior, loving the imagery and comfort it afforded me. The Lord is near and constant. He doesn't tarry. He's as sure as the rising sun and as certain as springtime showers. But this weekend it shouldn't have rained, it should have instead been bright, winsome, sunny, beautiful, and welcoming. I felt like there was a problem, it seemed as though things should have been far different than what they were. We should have gotten dealt a different hand than what we received. We held a prayer meeting prior to the launch events of that weekend. As I not-so-gracefully- expressed to God my frustrations, the feelings I had of being forsaken. Amid doing so I had a painful realization: The Lord has used rain for years in my life to remind me of Him and His message through the prophet Hosea. Through the method of rain, I always felt so close to the Lord. It was in storms and afternoon showers that I had physical reminder to the presence of God. As rain fell and puddles formed, I was reminded of the goodness of God and His constancy and reliability. Almost as if He gave to us the perpetual dawning sun and faithful spring rains as built-in testimonies that God is more faithful than even those. We can count on a new day dawning, but even more confidently can we count on God's appearing and walking among us. DG-instas-June20-18-2 We wait on the Lord through the thick, heavy nights knowing that He will uphold us as surely as we know that the sun will peek over the horizon in the morning. We anticipate God's hand at work in our lives with more confidence than we anticipate that April showers bring May flowers. We bear through hardships knowing that our eternal salvation is more tangible than anything darkness may throw our way. The reliability of God is unmatched. Genesis 1:14 tells us that God created celestial entities like stars, their constellations, the sun, the moon, and planets to mark the passing of time and gift us with order. He is the creator of the predictable, reliable, cyclical solar system. The composer of heavenly realms. The author of order, from whence all structure comes. He has ordained all of these things, and He is more sure and certain than every one of them. God is certain to be near to us, and if we trust that the spring rains will fall and that the sun will dawn and usher in a new day, shouldn't we also humble ourselves in the belief and knowledge that God will uphold us? Shouldn't we scoff at the outlandish sentiment that He will not appear in our time of need? Shouldn't we cleave to Him and His Word in the moments that we await Him? DG-instas-June20-18-3 That launch weekend I did none of these things. I pouted. I got confused. I shook my fist at the weatherman. I waged war against the very thing that God has continually used in my life to show me that He was near and among, walking with me. He humbled me with the storm and challenged me in my selfish, narrow mind. Our launch was successful. We had our bounce houses and mini-golf. We ministered to people and prayed for them. And we launched that Sunday morning with a baptism. 2 years later, I doubt anyone remembers that storm, but I do. But instead of bitterness, I see grace. Grace that God would challenge and sanctify me. Grace that He provided. Grace that He was more reliable than anything present within this world. Sarah Morrison is a staff writer for The Daily Grace Co.
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