Sunrises and Rain

I rubbed tired eyes and stepped over small children sleeping on mats as I made my way out of the small two-roomed house that was sleeping all eight of us. It was barely light outside, and these are the quiet moments of African life when everyone is still resting before the sun comes up. Glancing towards the sky, I noticed it was slightly ominous, but I was also stubbornly determined. And I didn’t get up before dawn just to be rained out. A few drops landed lightly on my skin as I made my way up to the hillside, but then they stopped and I just knew God would hold off the rain so that I could spend this time with him. 

Here, in this quiet place on a hillside overlooking a water reservoir below and a lush plain that slowly ascends into rolling hills, I have met the Lord many times. It’s a hidden place, one that many people who live in my city don’t even know about, so I can get away to this little sacred place from time to time, just Jesus and me. 

On this morning, I didn’t see the sun rise because of the heavy clouds, but I knew it was there. It was happening, and even though I couldn’t see it, the world still turned from dark to light without even a glimpse of the sun. Sometimes I love to watch those sunrises that explode in unimaginable color to escort the sun in like a victorious warrior. Other times, I like the sunrises that are hidden behind rain clouds because I like trusting in something that I cannot see. I love the comfort of knowing that the sun will rise every day whether I can see it or not. I sat down on a rock looking out over the still water, comforted by the beauty of a sunrise that I couldn’t see. Trust is knowing the sun rises even when clouds block the view. And faithfulness is God bringing my world from darkness to light every morning. 

As soon as I opened my Bible, I noticed little raindrops making smudges on the thin pages. I looked up in time to watch the raindrops began to ripple the stillness of the water before me, and before I could read a single verse, the heavens broke open in a drenching downfall. 

I darted down the hill and back home as quickly as I could, rain pelting my skin almost painfully until I was completely soaked through and through. When I arrived, Juliette and her kids were waiting for me, confused at why I had gone out in the rain before sunrise and laughing at the disheveled sight that I was to behold. Still, they welcomed me with warm smiles. 

“The rain ruined my prayer,” I said. 

“No,” Juliette replied with absolute certainty. “The rain blessed your prayer.” 

I was silenced, and I felt the tension in my shoulders relax. I love how the Burkinabé view the rain. Not a disturbance. Not an inconvenience. Not a bother. But a blessing. 

Their harvest and their very lives depend on the rain, so they welcome it with warm smiles just like they welcomed my soaked self. The rain is a simple, yet significant sign of God’s goodness. Like the sunrise proves his faithfulness, so the rain proves his provision. 

To say the rain ruined my prayer. How silly I am. The rain never ruined anything except my own agenda, and I need that from time to time. 

The rains that we so often dread, thinking they ruin us, are really transformed to bless us. When I think on my own life, I know this to be true. The eating disorder that wrecked my life radically shaped my relationship with God. The stress of nursing school increased my dependence on him. The bitterness of singleness turned into the sweetness of intimacy with Christ. Every pain and suffering witnessed in Africa has pushed me closer to knowing true hope and real trust in a God who transforms ashes to beauty. No, the rains didn’t ruin me. They blessed me. Cleaned me. Watered me to grow. 

I smile at Juliette, and we sit together and share a cup of warm tea as the rain on the tin roof drowns out all conversation. But what we don’t speak in that moment, we know to be true in our hearts. Even when you can’t see the sun, it still rises. And the rain doesn’t ruin, it blesses. It waters our faith, cleanses our doubts, and soaks us through and through with the faithfulness of a God who works all things together for the good of those who love him.