There's Something Redemptive About Rain

It's a gloomy, overcast day here on Creek Street in Ketchikan, Alaska and I’m loving it. Too many hot days back home have left me wanting a little weather. I've found a great little coffee shop to sit with a fresh brewed cup and a seat next to a drippy window so that I can people watch. A businessman hurries by, off to another meeting. The barista at the counter tops off another coffee then goes back to the textbook he’s been studying. A young gal sitting in the corner wearily holds her brand new baby. So many stories, so much history.

I love thinking about the lives of those seen in passing. Where do they come from…where are they going? Take, for example, the story of this place: the history behind Creek Street is a bit dark. Just 100 years ago, this part of Ketchikan could have been compared to Nineveh. It was filled with bootleggers and working women. There was even a street called "Married Man's Trail" (you get the point). I suppose if God sent Jonah here, he would have made a beeline for Russia, only to get swallowed by a giant salmon and spit right out on the Creek Street boardwalk. Much like Jonah, I'm quick to blush at (and even run from) such unabashed wickedness. I find ways to walk around those parts of town (and my life) even today. I was a harlot—spiritually, mind you—in my own sin before Jesus found me. Avoiding this truth means I miss seeing His overwhelming forgiveness. God loves to rescue those in need; it's what He's all about. The history here tends to get brushed over with a rosy cheek and a soft chuckle, but when I look at this drizzly little town I can't help but think about how God's rescues us.

The rain tapping gently at the window reminds me again of God's love. He promises to wash us, saying: "I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities..." (Ezekiel 36:25). There is more to Ketchikan than good salmon fishing and quaint shops. There's rain, and a reminder of God's promise to us. The weatherman mentioned dreariness for today, but I don't see it that way. The clouds he calls 'gloomy' don't hide the light…they diffuse it. It's still there. And the big, heavy raindrops falling in the street outside wash away the dust of summer travels, pooling into little mirrors that reflect the sky. Flowers all around reach even higher to catch the life-giving water. And when the clouds move on, life continues to shine. It's more than the chance to wear scarves and sip pumpkin lattes; there's a change we can see and feel happening around us. They remind of us of the change happening inside as well. There's something redemptive about rain, and Ketchican is full of it.