![]() It had never rained this hard before. I looked out of my window as students rushed back into their dorms using books as umbrellas, their shoes now heavy anchors as they made their way to their "docks." I loved the sound of rain. I used to cuddle in my bed, watching the night sky as the thunder roared and the lightning flashed. I would stare off into the brightly lit night until I drifted off to sleep. But rain is a curious thing. It can change suddenly, unpredictably—it can fall from the left or from the right, come with light or darkness, roar or whisper gently into my ears. Somehow, it decided to do something more violent that night, shaking me up from the comforts of my life, rattling me until I awoke from my deep slumber of death. I was blinded momentarily, confused and dazed, my heart pumping hard as I retreated to the corner of my bed. I was scared. I’ve never been scared of the rain. I was, after all, strong, confident, and comfortable with my life—immovable and unchangeable. It only took a few droplets of rain, the Lord’s merciful tears, to rip all of my pride and arrogance away. Our lives constantly change. Our environments constantly shape us. Our circumstances and situations are different and unique. We are like the rain, blown left and right, sometimes accompanied by large bouts of thunder and lightning. Other times, we’re flying effortlessly in the clouds—lifted high up into the heavenlies, waiting patiently for others to join us, waiting patiently for the Lord to drop us again on fertile ground. We think we’re strong—that we can go against nature, conquer the world with our own mind, strength, and will. We think we are the mighty man, the most powerful and intelligent being on earth. We construct our own stone walls and our own brick towers, thinking that no one in this world could ever tear them apart, break them down until the grains of our life escape from the grasp of our fingers. The walls were ugly and dull, blocking the view of the ocean; I was on the observation deck wondering what we were actually looking for. I stared down at the dusty roads—the humid wind blew across my face, bringing small droplets of water into my brows. I headed down the steps, one, two, three, probably another couple hundred until I reached my destination: the hard, very warm welcome of a stone-tiled sidewalk resembling those Taiwanese beds I slept on the night before. And for some reason, I laid there, on the ground, thinking. Above me I spotted the green laced trim of my umbrella, shielding me from the tiny droplets of rain starting to fall from the gloomy sky. My eyes brought me into my dorm room again. It was quiet. The room was silent. Huddled there in the corner, I began seeing the faces of the people I loved peering down at me, the saints filling my heart and bringing joy back into my being. I could not live life alone. I needed to take down those gray and ugly walls, even my green-laced umbrella shielding my eyes, for I want to gaze forever into the Lord’s eyes, wipe away His tears, observe His moving lips as they form a smile—as they speak, shout and cry. And I was not doing this alone. I peered up to find my sister and my father not at all amused that I just got my clothes damp on the wet cement. Some saints ran to the bathroom; some were still stranded on the observation deck. Others laughed and smiled as I clumsily lifted myself off the ground with just enough time for me to snap a couple photographs of the scene. I was no longer hiding under my own umbrella or behind my own stone fortress. I was sharing a big tent—a double-decker bus, constantly moving from place to place through rain, thunder, and lightning, through hills and valleys, through mountains and above waters, from left to right, and from day to night. We were driving through a violent storm—a storm forcing us to drown our own concepts, opinions, pride, strength, and comfort. And through these waters, we’re able to rise up, breathe anew, and experience life again. Even though it was a simple lesson, one that started with a few drops of rain and a looming brick wall obstructing my view, I know now that I will never ride alone again. -Samuel C
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