Through my primary school years, heavy summer rains dissolve our neighborhood into a waterpark: curb gutters become whitewater for stick kayaks, puddles are teed up for sprayed field goal attempts, and anything flat serves as a boogie board. I have never been in a kayak, played on a football team, or seen a boogie board, but when mom says we can go play in the rain, we put on our bathing suits for unbridled joy as long as the clouds bless us.
Egypt’s land was fertile only because the people regularly prepared it for irrigation during the Nile’s annual lowlands inundation—the water rising from below. Moses contrasts that experience with the Promised Land’s continual blessing from above, from God: “But the land that you are going over to possess is a land of hills and valleys, which drinks water by the rain from heaven, a land that the Lord your God cares for. The eyes of the Lord your God are always upon it, from the beginning of the year to the end of the year.”
Every Sunday morning showers fall where God’s children step away from their daily homes to gather in his. Truths, convictions, comforts, and commands fall from heaven when believers open scripture. We pour our petitions before the Father, empty ourselves, and leave dowsed from above with more than what we brought. Honest friendships and painful confessions; strangers served, enemies forgiven, good news spoken: all occasions for enjoying what has descended from above.
When my parents move us to a home with a pool in my 8th grade year, I stop playing in the rain. But I don’t miss it, because I swim practically every day.
Until we emerge in our new home, our Father’s home, may we find our refreshing in the showers he provides daily.