It's Raining in the Sunshine
God's Wooing Movement of Love
“But your phone didn’t say it was supposed to rain.”
“My phone doesn’t say anything. It’s a phone.”
“Daddy.”
“What?”
“You know—”
“Well, sometimes the summer air makes it rain and thunder and lightning and doesn’t let us know first.”
What Storms Feel Like
Once, a few years ago, my daughters drove through a frightful storm in Lancaster, Pennsylvania with their mother. The green sky threatened tornadoes. And the rain fell so hard and fast that my wife was forced to drive over an embankment, down into a parking lot where she ran the girls into a building for cover.
When they entered the building, sopping wet, they found others huddled inside waiting out the terrible winter rainstorm in fear.
Some storms stay with you.
And that winter storm remains for the girls and for my wife.
Don’t Let the Storm Beat You
I have loved storms for as long as I can remember. Growing up in Florida, thunderstorms were part of the landscape. To this day, I love to watch them, to hear them, to be in them.
So, when a storm rolls in unannounced these days, I do my best to talk about them with the girls—to somehow conquer that winter storm that remains in their minds and hearts.
A few days ago, we were in the middle of our taekwondo class. But now, thanks to COVID-19, our master must hold classes outside in the parking at the rear of the small building. We were training for our Poomsae when the dark clouds gathered beyond the trees to the north, and the thunder bellowed low and ominous.
Immediately, my youngest two daughters looked back to me and I could see it in their faces. Fear. Unknown. The winter storm.
Then—crash!
A lightning strike. It was close enough and loud enough to make everyone in the class cry out and run for cover.
The class was over.
And the girls ran to me. Master Fleming, a dear friend to us, walked over and rested his hand on Zion’s head. I told him about the winter storm and how it has never left. He spoke to them, softly, as the thunder grew louder.
“I know the past storm hurt your hearts, and that is okay. I understand. But,” he said, as he looked them in the eyes and drew their attention, “my loves, you cannot let the storm beat you. It is like an opponent in the sparring ring. It will strike you, but you must never back down. To overcome the opponent, you must stay in the ring and face them.”
“Yes sir,” they replied, wiping tears from their eyes.
“Thank you, sir,” I said, as we headed for the truck.
The storm came on quickly and with brute force. No weatherman called for it. It showed up unannounced.
The Wooing of the Storm
We drove home, watching the clouds gather and listening to the thunder roll across the heavens. And we talked about Master Fleming’s words.
His words did not magically heal their storm-wounds, but it gave them the courage to stay in the ring, and fight through their fears.
As we pulled into our house, the rains let go and fell straight and hard. I stood in the garage watching, and my two youngest daughters stood next to me, leaning in.
The dark clouds filled the southern sky, but blue sky filtered in from the west. And sunlight mixed with the downpour and lit up the big summer raindrops so that it looked like diamonds falling from the sky.
“What are you looking at, Daddy,” said my youngest, Zion.
“Look how the raindrops shimmer against the backdrop of the dark green woods.”
“Yeah, and look at how the pavement steams—like mist.”
“Yes, and think about how God paints a masterpiece, even in the midst of a great storm.”
“Yeah,” they both replied, watching the storm-rains pound down with the force of a whitewater river.
Stormrains Turned to Diamonds
If you stand still long enough, you can feel the earth move. Not the axis-spinning kind of movement, but the movement of life—a kind of cadence to some unknowable and barely audible celestial tune.
It’s in the laughter from down the street where the children splash in puddles. It’s in the wind moving through trees even as no one notices. It’s in the movement of the sky, filling up with waters and emptying in the vacant woods.
But the storms swell all around us, don’t they? Pandemic and social unrest, political nightmares and joblessness. And yet, even in the storms, God moves and woos us with a voice, not unlike thunder. He speaks from the stormcloud, don’t you know? He speaks from the ominous and the terrible.
And what does he say?
Something filled with grace, love, and courage, no doubt. He reminds us not to let this storm, this opponent, get the best of us. He reminds us, that even though our lives fill up with terrible crashings of thunder and streaks of frightful lighting, he sends the sun to make the storm-rain turn to diamonds.
Tim’s Book Club
Join me tomorrow for the book club! I’ll send discussion questions early in the day and we’ll hop on the thread later in the evening at 8:00 p.m. and after to discuss.
Tomorrow, I’m opening the book club up for all subscribers. A little July treat.
Read chapters 10-12 of The Screwtape Letters. Or if you’ve read it before, join anyway and contribute to the conversation!
See you tomorrow!