rainbow

As we emerge from the worst days of Omicron, the third but probably not the last of the COVID variants, we’re hanging onto a cautious optimism.  Some of us are angry at how long this difficult season has gone on, and we look for someone to blame for all the upheaval of the last two years.  We might blame governments, the CDC, teachers’ unions, the Chinese (and unfortunately, by extension, all of Asian descent.)  There are plenty of scapegoats available for those looking for one, but they are all just that:  scapegoats.  

In a recent sermon series on the Old Testament book of Daniel, my pastor reiterated his overall theme each week: “Can you praise God for the good that you can see, in spite of the grace you can’t yet see?”  That question has had me thinking about rainbows.  Did you know that there was no mention in the Bible of rain until Noah was instructed to prepare for a flood?  Then, when the rain started, God went overboard with his new trick, creating and destroying in one fell swoop.  Rain was like the eraser that God took to expunge the sin that he saw degrading his beautiful world.  And once the deluge was over, and a remnant remained, he made a promise—never again, specifically: “Never again will I use rain to destroy it all.” 

What’s the proof of that promise?  More rain.  For there is no rainbow without rain.  Light refracted through tiny droplets, benign.  To be sure, there is still rain; there is still deluge and flooding, famine, pestilence and war.  But there is also light and color and hope.  All is not lost, even when we are. 

I am looking for God’s rainbows, but I know that in order to find them, there must be rain…and pain. 

Love, Liz 

“The pain in my life has always cleared space on the other side for joy.”  Meredith Barnes