It rained today, a light and drippy Colorado winter rain. But it reminded me. We are a forgetful species, and we need reminding. I’m remembering the caterwauling drumming of really heavy rainfall on the roof and window panes. Cloud-burst and squall wrapped in dark wind. You know, the kind of rain that defies the functionality of any gutter and waterfalls off every eave with anger. The kind of storm where you feel the thunderous motion shaking the very air. The type that seems to steal the daylight. That overfills every low spot on any property in a moment, creating its own waterlogged landscape. Beyond umbrellas. Torrential. Teeming. Overwhelming. Even frightening. The kind of rain which seems to want to wash all life away.
Have you ever been in this kind of rainstorm? I’ve been there, too. I remember thinking, “Thank God we’re inside, safe and dry.” It is a special sensation to be protected from chaos.
And so it is with God’s beloved ones. Flash and pound and rain on, world.
“Those who dwell in the shelter of the Most High will always rest under the roof and eaves of the Almighty.” (Psalm 91.)