STORMS DON’T LAST FOREVER
COME WET.
Beloveds.
Come wet.
No, really.
Come. Wet.
You do not have to stand outside trying to dry yourself off before you come through the door.
You do not have to wipe away the evidence that it has been raining in your life.
You do not have to straighten your clothes, fix your face, rehearse a testimony, find the lesson, identify the blessing, or manufacture a smile so everybody else can be comfortable with what you have survived.
Come wet.
Because sometimes encouragement sounds entirely too much like somebody telling us to hurry up and stop hurting.
And that is not what I mean when I tell you:
Storms don’t last forever.
I am not telling you that because I need your storm to end quickly.
I am telling you because I want to sit with you while it is still raining.
There is a difference.
Some storms pass in an afternoon.
Some stay long enough for you to forget what sunshine felt like.
Some storms have names.
Grief.
Loneliness.
Rejection.
Disappointment.
Fear.
Financial trouble.
Family trouble.
The dream that didn’t happen.
The relationship that changed.
The prayer that seems unanswered.
The thing you cannot fix.
The thing you cannot explain.
And sometimes the storm isn’t one enormous thing.
Sometimes it is seventeen little things raining on the same Tuesday.
Whew.
Beloveds, hear me:
Trouble may occupy the room without owning the room.
That distinction matters.
Trouble can be here.
And God can be here.
Grief can be here.
And love can be here.
Fear can be here.
And courage can be here.
Questions can be here.
And faith can be here.
Tears can be here.
And hope can pull up a chair beside them.
We keep acting as though one thing must leave before another thing is allowed through the door.
It doesn’t.
I can hurt and still laugh.
I can grieve and still love.
I can be tired and still believe.
I can be disappointed and still expect God to meet me here.
I can say, “This hurts.”
Period.
No testimony ending required.
That does not mean I have abandoned faith.
Sometimes telling the truth about the rain IS faith.
Because I am trusting God enough to stop pretending in His presence.
Psalm 46:1 says:
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” — Psalm 46:1 KJV
IN trouble.
That gets me.
Not merely after trouble.
Not only once the clouds have separated and the testimony is polished enough for Sunday morning.
IN. TROUBLE.
Very present.
Right here.
Right now.
In the rain.
Maybe refuge does not always mean God immediately stops the storm.
Maybe sometimes refuge means the storm does not get to have all of me.
Maybe refuge is the place where I remember:
I am still here.
I am still loved.
I still belong.
And I do not have to perform strength to deserve shelter.
💜 HEART CHECK
Have you been treating your pain like something you have to clean up before other people are allowed to see it?
Have you been telling yourself:
I should be over this.
I shouldn’t still be sad.
Other people have it worse.
I need to be stronger.
People are tired of hearing about it.
Who handed you that ruler?
And why are they allowed to decide how long rain is permitted to fall in your life?
You are allowed to tell the truth.
👑 TINY VICTORY
Find one piece of evidence that the storm has not taken everything.
Maybe you got out of bed.
Maybe you prayed.
Maybe you ate something.
Maybe you answered one message.
Maybe you laughed for thirty seconds.
Maybe you cried instead of pretending.
Maybe you asked for help.
Maybe you rested.
Maybe all you can say today is:
I am still here.
Beloved, that counts.
Do not insult today’s survival because it does not look like yesterday’s strength.
Progress looks different in the rain.
🌎 DAILY LOVE CHALLENGE
Today, become shelter instead of a weather reporter.
Don’t tell somebody how long their storm should last.
Don’t explain why they should be grateful.
Don’t rush them toward the lesson.
Don’t demand the inspirational ending.
Try this instead:
“You don’t have to clean this up for me. I’m here.”
And mean it.
Maybe love is not always carrying somebody out of the rain.
Sometimes love is pulling another chair underneath the covering and saying:
Sit down. You don’t have to weather this part alone.
🙏🏿 FAITH IN REAL TIME
I believe God is present in the storm.
I also believe we can misunderstand faith when we turn it into pressure to pretend the storm doesn’t hurt.
Jesus never required hurting people to deny that they hurt.
So bring God the unedited version.
The angry version.
The exhausted version.
The confused version.
The “Lord, I don’t understand this” version.
The version with tears running down its face.
The version that doesn’t have a neat ending yet.
God is not frightened by wet clothes.
Come wet.
🔒🔑 BEFORE YOU GO…
If today is sunny for you, leave room for somebody standing in rain.
If today is raining for you, don’t disappear because you think everybody else deserves sunshine.
There is room for both of you here.
Actually…
There is room for all of us.
Christian.
Atheist.
Agnostic.
Certain.
Questioning.
Laughing.
Crying.
Strong today.
Barely holding on today.
Whosoeverwill.
Come.
No cleaned-up pain required.
No testimony ending required.
No admission price.
Just a chair.
And if all you can do today is arrive dripping wet and whisper:
“I’m still here.”
Then sit down, Beloved.
We heard you.
And we are glad you came.
The chair stays.
Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
🔒🔑 WHOSOEVERWILL.
Come as you are. All are welcome.
Note: We may as well get to dancing in the rain 🌧, beloveds!💃🏿🥰👍🏾
