After what seemed like six hours of signing dotted lines, we finally closed on our new house. We breathed a sigh of relief and gratitude as we drove away from the lawyers with keys in hand and the house hunting behind us. That was Monday, but Saturday was coming. The excitement of owning a new home was soon overshadowed by the responsibilities. We were to leave for vacation on the following Monday, so I decided to take a load of stuff that we weren’t going to be using to the new house while Lindsey stayed home to pack. When I arrived, everything was just as we had left it the day before. I took off my shoes at the door to avoid tracking in unwanted dust and dirt and headed toward the basement with a heavy box of commentaries.

Stepping off the last step, I was met with a strange and unexpected sensation. I wasn’t sure if the carpet was just cold on my bare feet or if something had been spilled. The further I walked the clearer it became; our new finished basement had flooded. With every step the water rose and so did my anxiety. I stepped over to the side of the basement that was supposed to house my office and cringed with every step as water seeped up from beneath the laminate floorboards. I was genuinely perplexed! We had looked at this house several times in the months leading up to the purchase and had never found any hints of leakage or previous water damage. I did what any reasonable man would do—I found a dry spot of carpet, laid down, and stared at the ceiling hoping that when I arose everything would be okay. It didn’t work.

Despite my irritation I pulled back the carpet and set to work. In all I vacuumed up nearly twenty gallons of water that day. As unpleasant and inconvenient as the procedure was, I discovered there were a few lessons to be learned from my cold bare feet and my soggy wet basement.

First, I learned that rain exposes. It’s worth pointing out that the storm that caused the flood revealed a problem I didn’t even know I had. The heavy rain revealed that I had dirty gutters and two misplaced drainpipes. If the water had not seeped into my basement and soaked my carpet, I would have very likely continued unpacking without even realizing that my foundation was in jeopardy. Physical storms have a way of forcing us to face problems in our houses that we would otherwise ignore. Likewise, spiritual storms expose the flaws in our foundations and the holes in our holiness. It is only when the rain falls that we begin to really discover how far we are from finished. God uses soggy carpet and weeping floorboards to bring us to our knees and force us to admit that we need help. God uses the storms to make us clean our dirty gutters and reposition our misdirected drains.

Second, I discovered that rain expands. Not only did my flooded basement expand my patience and my knowledge of my new home, it expanded my garden. Just prior to the storm’s arrival, I had transplanted all my vegetables from their original pots into the small garden patch I had tilled in my new back yard. When I placed them in the hard, red clay, they were empty and weak; now they are full and strong. The rain that flooded my basement also softened my garden and allowed my plants to grow. This week I will be harvesting the first of this year’s produce, but that would not have been possible had God not sent the rain that sent me into a tailspin.

I learned that the rain that delays my plans for today is often watering something I will need for tomorrow.

Finally, I found that rain expresses. Every drop of rain preaches a sermon. The sermon has one point, and that is God is faithful. Even though the issue is not completely resolved, and I am still cleaning up the mess the storm left, I can see the fingerprints God has left on this season of my life. When I look at my flourishing garden and count the blessings that come from it, I can thank God for the rain. When I walk downstairs and breathe in the fresh smell of Arm and Hammer baking soda, I’m reminded that problems that seem so big in the moment are often smaller than the shadows they cast. God has used this little incident to remind me that even when the storm messes up my plans it doesn’t change His. The rain taught me things that I otherwise would have never learned. It shaped me into someone that on my own I could have never become. Every memory of my cold bare feet and soggy wet basement reminds me that even when the storm does damage around me, God is using it to repair the damage in me. Those drops of rain, even the ones that flood, are tiny testaments to the grace and goodness of God.

-Pastor Benjamin Webb