We live in a dry land, dependent on water.
For those who know the Bible, the setting is familiar, to say the least. The ancient Israelites wandered through the desert wilderness on their way to “a land flowing with milk and honey.”
We who make our homes in Southern California can relate. We live with cycles of drought and deluge. We love warm, sunny weather, but we know we need the rain.
I remember well the droughts of the 1970s, and the rains that came in the winter of ’74-75, and ’77-78.
We rode our bikes through streams running down our streets. We watched as a lake formed in our back yard.
We got to see water run over the spillway of a local dam that hadn’t seen water that high for 40 years. It seemed back then the rain would never stop. It just kept coming.
The writer of Genesis tells of the flood that took place on the Earth during the days of Noah. Water fell from the sky, and also bubbled up from under the earth, to cover the land completely.
When I first heard the story, it was told as the basis of God’s promise never to destroy the earth again by flood. The bow in the clouds was a sign of that promise, a reminder of God’s mercy.
Years later, when I studied the text as a seminary student, I was surprised, and frankly slightly disturbed, to learn God put the bow in the clouds as a “reminder to self” not to destroy the earth.
I worried God felt the need more or less to tie a string around His finger so as not to forget. That didn’t seem to fit with the image of an all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful Creator. But I still enjoy rainbows.
When it rains in our part of the world, I find people are torn.
Some are overwhelmed with gratitude and joy, giving thanks for the water that nourishes our gardens, fills the rivers and restores the water table beneath us.
Others are distressed at having to drive in the rain, or worry about those who lack shelter from the elements. Some face the threat of mud slides and falling trees. Others marvel at the emerald green hills around us.
The same rain brings widely different results to us here in California.
The ancient Israelites also knew the life giving and terrifying power of water.
The writer of Psalm 46 describes God as our refuge and strength: “Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam.”
The psalms also give thanks for streams springing forth in the desert, and speak of the strength and resilience of those who draw on God’s wisdom: “They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season and their leaves do not wither.”
After years of drought we find ourselves in the midst of a much-needed season of rain. It is disruptive and inconvenient. It is wondrous and joyful.
It reveals the truth about the roof we had imagined was secure. It washes dirt and dust from the air we breathe. It fills reservoirs and overflows levees.
Jesus said “rain falls on the just and the unjust.” The rain doesn’t discriminate. But it doesn’t land the same way even on those who depend on it.
It doesn’t surprise me people of faith have connected water to the story of our relationship with God.
Our dependence on both seems obvious to those who believe. Water stirs gratitude and joy, wonder, awe, and even fear among us, depending on the circumstances.
Water buoys us up and washes over us. It lies out of our control, yet makes up most of who we are. We need it. We can try to manage it. But its power is beyond us.
If we are open to receive, water can teach us gratitude, humility, compassion.
Jonathan Chute is Senior Pastor at Rolling Hills United Methodist Church in Rolling Hills Estates. Jonathan can be reached by email at: jonathan@rhumc.org.
