A dreary morning today was fitting for what has, in many ways, been a dreary week. The dreariness of the week, however, doesn’t have much to do with the weather. Rather, it has to do with the situations and circumstances people I’m privileged to serve are experiencing.
I only have one pastor’s experience to go by, but I think if you were to poll a group of pastors, they would somewhat agree with the following assessment. Some weeks seem to be full of happy moments, and you’re able to rejoice with people who are rejoicing as their season of life seems to be at the top of a mountain. Most of the time, weeks have a mixture of moments, with some people on top of the mountain, some down in the valley, and the rest somewhere between the two points.
Every now and then, there’s a week like this one. One situation after another. One crisis after another. One fire after another that needs to be extinguished. Some are expected and anticipated. Some are not. Some are known among the congregation and the community. Most are not. Preparation occurs for some, which makes it a bit more manageable. Others arise with zero time for preparation.
I’m thinking today of the people I’ve encountered this week who are walking through such valleys and whose life, in this season, mimics the dreary, damp weather that greeted us in the Panhandle this morning.
Then, in the midst of that dreary weather, there’s a sign that God has not forgotten. There’s a sign that reminds you that, even though it’s dreary today, God is above the atmosphere, weaving together a plan that one day will be understood. We may not see the plan, but God lets us know that his presence hasn’t left us as he takes every part of our lives and all of our experiences and weaves them together into something that we’ll be able to comprehend in eternity.
As I drove down Berryhill Road this morning, using the wipers to wipe away the dreary rain, there was the most colorful rainbow that grabbed my attention. Gray skies were pierced with an array of colors. Dreary weather was tempered with just a speck of sunshine behind a cloud. And the frown that I’ll admit was on my face turned upward for a moment into a smile. I was reminded that God sees. God knows. God cares. He’s up to something that I often can’t explain and have long stopped trying to figure out. But even when I can’t see it, he’s working, because he never stops working.
Oh yeah. That rainbow? See where it looks like it starts? If my mental map is correct, that’s appears to very close to the home of a sweet family I’m privileged to pastor who is walking through one of those dreary days today. Thanks for the reminder, Lord. Now, please help me not to forget.
The View From My Pew 