It’s raining.
There is at times a delicate mist in the air, and times when the silence is disrupted by the tap-tap-tap on the windows and the gentle rumble of thunder in the distance. It’s like a pulse, a heartbeat that embraces and covers and nourishes. It reminds all who feel its touch that they are indeed still alive. It’s comfort food for the soul.
Our days are so often like rainy days. We are touched by gentle and harsh, good and heavy with intermittent sprinkles of “there is so much more to life than this…” The moments move from delicate mist to tap-tap-tapping disruption.
But there is the gentle rumble of thunder. If you listen closely, it speaks.
“You are here for each other. That’s your purpose. You aren’t here to build a platform or elevate your position – you’re not even here to be known or noticed. You are here to touch lives and remind them they are still alive. You are rain. You are comfort food. That’s what counts.”
We are comfort food. To the friend in the hospital. To the family in crisis. To the kid needing encouragement. To the fellow wandering misfit. We are rain. To the fallen and the falling. It is our arms God uses to embrace and cover, our shoulders God uses to hold and carry. It is in our pulse, our heartbeat that God nourishes – He reminds all who feel His touch that they are indeed still alive.
It’s raining.