In the past few months I’ve seen a lot of my friends post about rainbows on Instagram. Maybe this has always been a thing, but I’m only just now noticing it. A lot of people I know talk about how they’d asked God to show them rainbows as reminders of Him, His presence, His promises- my good friend Lillabea is one of them. When Lil came back from the World Race a few years ago she asked God every day to show her a rainbow, and He delivered for months and months after: “a symbol of hope, a colorful display of God’s care for man.” Even my friends who don’t follow the Lord and who aren’t outright praying for them are regularly seeing them. It’s been raining a lot this summer, and every time it does, I pray that I’ll see a rainbow. I never have. I’m frustrated every time this happens, and at this point I just want to see a rainbow because I simply couldn’t even tell you the last time I saw one.
If I’m being completely honest I’ve been frustrated for a long time about unanswered prayers, rainbow or otherwise. If I’m being even more honest, the times I doubt God the most and whether He is even real, are when I think about how seemingly unanswered all my prayers are. Because too much of the time I truly feel like I’m just talking to nothing, shouting at the sky, empty words into a void. And I get so frustrated at myself when I feel that way, because how can I be a ‘real Christian’ if I can’t even get myself to believe in prayer half the time? Is that not, like, Step #1 of Christianity? Hearing story after story of how God has answered other peoples’ prayers makes me feel insecure, even angry at times; ‘what am I doing wrong’ is probably my most common lament. I feel as though God hears everyone but me. I think ‘what am I doing wrong’ as I see some cheesy cliché about prayer (you know you’ve seen a 46-year-old suburban mom repost one of them on Facebook, bad graphic design and all) when prayer for me can be a straight shot to doubt and questioning. What. Am. I. Doing. Wrong.
One of my favorite questions to ask people is, ‘What one moment of your life would you want to relive?’ My answer is always the same. Five years ago I spent a month working at a Younglife camp in Colorado called Crooked Creek. A few nights into the week every camper has the opportunity to spend fifteen minutes in silence under the stars. On week one, all of us on work crew and summer staff were in the dining hall together, quietly waiting to go out and sing and act as the camp bell once the fifteen minutes were up. The curtains were supposed to be closed, but one of them that faced the pond and the mountains was pulled open. Behind the mountain range was a lightning storm, and every few seconds the lightning would flash and light up the valley and the clouds around it. The majority of us stood in complete silence around that window watching in awe, completely captivated by every second of it.
At our Fellows orientation retreat last week, we had one night where we ate dinner down at the dock around sunset. As the sun started going down and it progressively got darker, the heat lightning around the lake was becoming more and more apparent. All night long lightning flashed across the sky- in front of me, down farther out past the cove, sometimes so bright it felt blinding. It was a pretty cloudy night, save the one stretch of sky where I could see more stars than I’d seen all summer, but I think it made the lightning all the better, watching the clouds light up with each flash.
And in that moment, for the first time, I felt the smallest bit of contentment that I’m not given rainbows. I realized that this summer I’d been given lightning and I’ve never even asked for it. I’ve always wanted to relive that moment at Crooked Creek, and I get pieces of that every time I’ve seen heat lightning. I’ve never seen it and not been instantly captivated, not instantly felt a sense of peace, however brief. I’m so easily unaware of the gifts already being lavished on me daily, dismissive of what’s right in front of me. So on that night in the midst of hurt and anxiety and questioning, I got to sit on a dock until midnight under the stars and laugh deeply over hours of “make it or break it’s,” consistently surrounded by lightning- reminders of God, His presence, His comfort, and His promises. Each flash telling me “Look at where I’ve brought you. Look at where you are. And yet- there is still so much more to come.”.
anyways, that’s all i’ve got. this is definitely the only time i’ll get this done quickly.
monthly music recommendations: burden by fawn, quantum physics by ruby waters, unready by gordi, they think we’re stupid by ezra bell, turn up your light by boo seeka, you were a kindness by the national, grigio girls by lady gaga
-- Jen Kunin