I used to sing a song with the kids in Sunday School about the rain. I was teaching them something I didn’t quite understand… the song tells a story of a man who built his house on the sand. When it rained, and rained, and flooded, his house went “splat!” We liked the song because we could all get loud and silly with our “SPLAT!”
I learned, what I taught, when my “rains” came. My trials flooded my land. My faith was sand. I was sinking.
The God I knew back then was supposed to save me from bad things. When the rains came, and He didn’t save me, I didn’t cry out to Him. I relied on myself.
In the sand, I struggled. I latched onto things that were floating by. I thought they’d save me. I put my hope and faith in people. I continued to sink.
My house was swept away, along with my happiness, love, patience, peace, and eventually, my sanity.
One day, I felt something under my feet. It was solid, and it started lifting me up.
It was building a house as it lifted me.
The walls had writing on them.
“LOVE,” “WISDOM,” “PEACE,” “FORGIVEN.”
The sand fell away. The house stood tall.
The rains came. The floods followed. The house stood firm.
I cried out to God. He heard me.
The God I know now doesn’t save me from bad things. He protects me. He comforts me. He provides for me.
He loves me.
Even when bad things happen, and life feels like a huge “SPLAT!,” I feel safe.
I’ve learned what I used to teach.
I’ll remain on that solid rock that my house is built on, even when bad things happen.
Otherwise, life is meaningless. Sinking sand.