I sit here tonight and find fault with the rain as huge drops pelt against my dorm window.
Life loses color and everything becomes a shade of gray. The vibrant complexion of the world has lost all of its luster. It is washed away and replaced with tiresome monotony.
I feel the gray penetrate my soul with ease. It envelopes my entire being with a cloak of heaviness, depression, hopelessness, as I sit dejectedly, knowing the storm is far from passing and I am unequipped for the treacherous conditions my heart finds itself in the midst of.
I reach for the Good Book, desperate for any sliver of encouragement and color. Desperate for the brilliant beauty of hope. I find it as I open to James…a single line underlined with red pen from over the summer, “Every good and perfect gift is from above.”
Without rain, there is drought. Drought brings thirst. My heart longs to seek out radiance in the uninspired routine of everyday life. My heart thirsts for relief. Jesus sees my suffering and enters in. He brings me water, living water. He brings the rain.
I slip on my boots and go for a walk. The downpour is heavy and consistent. It washes over me and quenches my soul. I do not avoid the puddles, I walk right through them. Though it is dark out, it is not bleak. I breathe in deep. This is living water. This is good.
Every good and perfect gift is from above.
The rain falls and as it does, the gray shell of my cloak fades and brilliant hues emerge. Life springs from my heart and soul.
Tonight, right here and now, I believe that this rain is good. It is perfect.