Do You Believe In Rainbows?

 Showers had intermittently scattered their way through the day, watering the parched ground after an unusually dry June. While almost everyone around these parts had been thankful for a sunny summer (especially after the previous one was so grey and wet), the consensus had been that yes, indeed, we needed some rain. So I wasn't complaining the slightest. But after a break in the moisture and a lifting of the clouds, I decided to go get my walk in around the neighborhood. As I made my way up the gradual incline that is my street, I happened to notice the latest "street art" to grace the road... 

Now, for background, the house above me is in its third ownership since being built. I have known all three households to live in that place and, until recently, it had been years since any smaller children called that spot home. It's actually been a long time since we've had any little kids in this neighborhood at all. Almost everyone that had littles now either has teenagers or are grandparents and empty nesters. So when this one family moved in, the neighborhood sort of came alive again. When you drive or walk by the house now, there are bicycles in the driveway, kids playing in the front yard, etc. It's a welcome sight. 

And there's the "street art." 

I don't exactly know which kid in the family does this but more than once when I've gone by, there's been some delightful little picture or message out on the road. And I honestly love it! It's a little human touch of wonder that always makes me smile and pause... a glimpse of life seen through the untainted eyes of a young child. A reminder of what Jesus said when He indicated that we couldn't see the Kingdom unless we became childlike (Matthew 18:3). So on my walk this time, I had my eyes open for whatever cute drawing or message might be left out on the street again. And, as I approached their house, I could see something was there. Coming up to it, this is what I saw: 

Once glance at it, and you can see the wet street having washed away some of the chalk drawing but the parting clouds and the rainbow between them still visible. As I snapped this photo, it suddenly occurred to me the powerful significance behind this simple, little child's drawing. For some reason, as kids, we believe in the message of rainbows: that the storms of life do part eventually and that there is beauty to be found on the other side of them. We believe that the sun will shine again. We actively look for rainbows when it storms because we want to find that reminder that glory shines its way best through reflected light... drops sending back the sun in such a way as to form a collage of color that signifies an eternal promise delivered by God (Genesis 9:13). 

But somehow along the way, we stop looking for beauty in the storms. We stop believing that something wonderful is to be found within them or that something lovely is waiting on the other side of them. We start to think the storms are never-ending. We start to own the lie that hope is a myth. We simply quit looking for the promise amid the pain. We give up that child-like sense of faith and wonder that Jesus told us would signify the Kingdom. And so we end up moving farther away from that belief that the clouds do, indeed, part in time and the sun does shine again... even through our tears. 

I stood there for a moment and took a deep breath. The smell of fresh rain still hung in the air, the dampness still felt. And I thought of all the storms of my own I've passed through. All the times I've asked the question if believing in hope was futile. I thought of how, nineteen years ago around this time, I wrested with that very idea as my youthful ignorance was shattered and I came face-to-face with the reality that I might lose my father imminently. Where would the rainbow and the hope be then? I recalled all the years since that God never let go of my hand and gently walked me through these valleys and storms, always reminding me that the pain had a purpose and that someday, I would understand. Even if I didn't get it at the time. 

And I had to smile. Because I realized that so much of where my story is now is like those little clouds parting and the colors coming through. That part of my healing has involved me returning back to the faith I had as a child and believing, once again, that the promise of beauty after the storm is worth holding onto. That the God who allows the storms also calls to me to have faith in His sovereignty in the midst of them as He did the disciples and Who stills them simply with a word from His voice (Matthew 8:26). The fact that He lets disruptions happen is simply to prove to me, yet again, Who He has and that He can be trusted. To let me taste His peace and know that I am always safe, always loved. 

Just as He took the kids on His lap and told those with inflated egos to not forbid them (Matthew 19:14), so He also cuddles my fearful heart next to His own and reminds me that whatever storm I'm facing has nothing on His power. He is still very much in control, and I only need to rest in Him. To trust and believe. And once more, the perspective of a child wins again. Brings me back to the posture God desires from me and the hope I am expected to exhibit as I walk this planet. A pastoral remark I heard recently wasn't wrong when it said that it's unnatural for a child of God to not believe in the impossible. And so I find myself again returning to the simple prayer that always shifts things for me in any season... 

Lord, I believe. 

Help my unbelief.