God has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering. (Genesis 41:52)

A poet stands by the window watching a summer shower. It is a fierce downpour, beating & pounding the earth. But the poet, in his mind's eye, sees more than a rain shower falling. He sees a myriad of lovely flowers raining down, soon breaking forth from the freshly watered earth, and filling it with their matchless beauty & fragrance. And so he sings:

It isn't raining rain to me-it's raining daffodils;
In every dripping drop I see wildflowers upon the hills.
A cloud of gray engulfs the day, & overwhelms the town;
It isn't raining rain to me-it's raining roses down.

Perhaps you are undergoing some trial as God's child, & you are saying to Him, "O God, it is raining very hard on me tonight, and this test seems beyond my power to endure. Disappointments are pouring in, washing away & utterly defeating my chosen plans. My trembling heart is grieved & is cowering at the intensity of my suffering. Surely the rains of affliction are beating down upon my soul."

Dear friend, you are completely mistaken. God is not raining rain on you-He is raining blessings. If you will only believe your Father's Word, you will realize that springing up beneath the pounding rain are spiritual flowers. And they are more beautiful & fragrant than those that ever grew before in your storm-less & suffering-free life.

You can see the rain, but can you also see the flowers? You are suffering through these tests, but know that God sees sweet flowers of faith springing up on your life beneath these very trials. You try to escape the pain, yet God sees tender compassion for other sufferings finding birth in your soul. Your heart winces at the pain of heavy grief, but God sees the sorrow deepening & enriching your life.

No, my friend, it is not raining afflictions on you. It is raining tenderness, love, compassion, patience, & a thousand other flowers & fruits of the blessed Holy Spirit. And they are bringing to your life spiritual enrichment that all the prosperity & ease of this world could never produce in your innermost being. J.M.M.

from: Streams In The Desert