Sometimes you wake up to see the sun rise and are met with darkness, clouds, a downpour of rain off in the distance.
Sure, it’s not what I rubbed sleep out of my eyes to see, but the downpour left me wanting a drenching of my own- a Holy Spirit sort of reminder of who I am, who my Father says I am. And so, I listened while the wind blew and the waves crashed.
My expectation was to be dazzled by color, drawn to praise.
Instead, I was quieted by the storm, drawn to repentance.
Twenty-four hours later, my eyes appreciated the beauty of the sun rise in a new way, in a deeper way. My soul could process the beauty differently because of the clouds.