It rained today where I live. We need it. We are in a moderate drought, which does not mean much to people who never lived on a farm. I am hoping it will give the grass in my pasture a boost and fill the creeks with water. 

You don’t know how valuable rain is until it is not there. I remember as a child my mother praying for rain. In those days we had no well to pump water to the orange groves. Mama knew that no rain meant no oranges, and no oranges meant no money. She was a widow, trying to hang on. God sending rain was her only hope. 

The best sleep I ever knew as a child was when rain would beat on the tin roof of the Old House. The steady rhythm of drops was a lullaby that made you snuggle up under the covers and sleep soundly. When I was older, I remember fixing a fence and getting caught in a shower. I dashed for cover up under the hay barn. It was the regular Florida summer afternoon thunderstorm. This rain set in for a while, so I climbed up on the hay and caught a nap. That was the best nap I ever had too. 

Once, we had a long dry spell. Our neighbor, Judie, was over talking to my stepfather about something. A clap of thunder sent us under the barn, and a steady rain began to fall. The rain had just about settled the dust when Judie said, “Watch out, boys, it’s about to get too wet.”  Some folks can find the dark lining in any rain cloud. 

I always agreed with Mack, who worked for us. While Judie was worried about it getting too wet, Mack leaned over to me and said, “I’d rather it be too wet than too dry. It’s always easier to take the water off than put the water on.”   

I know sometimes it seems like the rain will never stop. It was not that long ago my town had seventeen inches of rain in about twenty-four hours. Homes were flooded, businesses were destroyed. Too much of any good thing can be bad. 

Most of the time, however, rain reminds me of God’s grace. Jesus said, “He (God) makes it rain on the just and the unjust.”  I’ve seen it myself. I’ve seen the rain fall on the deacon’s land and fall on the scoundrel’s land. Rain blesses without discrimination.   

One of my favorite stories in the Bible about rain involves the prophet, Elijah. He had a showdown with the prophets of Baal. Baal, among other things, was the pagan god of rain. The prophets of Baal prayed, danced, and even cut themselves, but no rain fell. Elijah, on the other hand, laid out an offering, doused it with water, prayed, and fire fell from heaven. Then he told the King to eat while he went and prayed for rain. He prayed, and finally, a little cloud came up. He told the King he better head down the mountain, or he would get stuck in the mud. The King started down the mountain, but that little cloud turned into a gully-washer. The King got stuck, but Elijah ran all the way to the city, probably laughing in the rain at God’s amazing grace.

There is a passage in 2 Chronicles 7 where God speaks to Solomon after he built the Temple. He told Solomon that if there was a time when he shut up the heavens, and there was no rain, then his people should humble themselves and pray, and turn from their wicked ways. Then, God promised he would hear from heaven and heal the land. Rain is a sign of God’s healing.

Our moderate drought is nothing compared to what is happening out west. I read this morning that Lake Powell, the impoundment of Hoover Dam, is down to twenty-four percent of its capacity. Millions depend on the water and on the power produced. I have a hunch some of those people are praying for rain. 

I do not pretend to know God’s ways or thoughts. Why do some areas get too much rain and others not enough? I do know rain (or the lack of it) is a call to think about how much we depend on God, how much we need the things that only he can provide. Rain is one more sign we cannot live without him.   

Maybe that is why my Aunt Jean says, “Whenever it rains, I always give thanks.”