“The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.”
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I’ve experienced many spiritual droughts in my life. I cannot tell you how those times are both debilitating and strengthening all at the same time. I have learned exponentially the closeness of God as well as His intentional silence in desert seasons that seem relentless.

A stark contrast we know to be true of desert wanderings is intense rain. I recently read this quote that made me stop and think: “I asked God to help me grow, it started raining.” Just like in nature, when it comes to spiritual growth, there cannot be development without watering. Droughts dry up what does not belong and banishes what need not be there and what is hindering us from progressing. These dry stages take time, but once they are over, we cannot resent the cultivating that inevitably comes.

A few weeks ago, after a long road trip from Michigan to Florida, I was tired of being in the car. We arrived back home and I was not only exhausted but also frustrated. I told my husband that I was going for a walk and clear my head. I made my way over to the beach, and as I was feeling sorry for myself and throwing the grandest of pity parties, I heard a voice coming from a few feet away. She was quiet and hard to hear with all the wind, but I knew in my heart she was part of the reason I found myself in that spot. I made my way over and she began to tell me how much she loved that spot because of what it meant to her and her late father.

I was racking my brain wondering how in the world I was going to be able to minister to her and show her the love of Jesus. I didn’t see a way of making it happen without forcing my beliefs on her, so I waited. Nonchalantly, I slipped in something about how I was a Christian. Almost immediately, she asked me to sit down. She inquired about what I believed and what speaking in tongues meant. She expressed how she was trying to go to church and how certain things in her life were out of control.

Things were going great until about five whole minutes later when the rain started falling here in the “Sunshine State.” Thankfully, I came prepared. She continued to talk as I opened and extended my red umbrella as we huddled underneath. A stranger, a soul, a wandering heart had made her way into my rainy season and I had made it to hers. We continued our conversation as time and raindrops passed. The beach was empty, but there was a hunger being filled.

We spent time talking about how God always knows what is best and that He is orchestrating a plan even when it seems like all is lost. I was doing my best to minister to her, but in return, she unknowingly ministered to me. She pulled out a pile of notecards from her purse and said she has been dealing with the subject of surrender and how imperative it is. In a sense, that is what faith is tied to. It doesn’t make sense, and we cannot control where it leads us, but when we surrender to the will of God, we end up right where we need to be. Faith is blind but it never loses its sight. After she put her note cards away, I wanted to break down and let my tears fall into the sand. There I was, a devout churchgoer, a person who has traveled all over the world looking for answers, and there I found one—washed up on a cloudy beach in the form of someone I had never met.

I said my goodbyes, gave her my umbrella, and decided to walk in the downpour. As I was walking away, I felt the Lord share with me the three words that I have titled this article: the rain reveals. How that saying rings ever so true in all of our lives. We wonder and wander, search and despair, we try to find ways to fix everything, meanwhile we have a Savior who is longing for us to surrender and let Him take control. To nurture us.

The rain reveals what is buried and hidden. It exposes the impurities and washes and cleanses. The forty days of rain and flood preserved Noah and His family and drowned out what God wanted to remove. It washes away the dirt and dust, and what remains is what belongs. If it wasn’t for rain, there would be no life.

Yes, desert dwelling is a hard place to be, but when you have moved from the dry spell, do not be afraid when the rain begins to pour. For if you are rooted and surrendered, the growth will come. Aside from the cleansing and uncovering, after the rain comes the blooming. The fruit is produced in just the right time and the beautiful results of all the pruning, drought, watering, and pain are experienced. The rain reveals what a tiny seed of faith has grown into. When the sun comes out, not only will there be a deeper appreciation for it, but there will be so much to show for the season you’ve come through. There is nothing quite like the blessings and outcomes that follow the rain.

Rachel Skirvin is a lover of travel, nachos and the gospel. She is a graduate of Urshan College and will most likely always call it Gateway. She just recently married her best friend and together they are serving at the Pentecostals of Cooper City in South Florida.