Somalia has not seen rain since February. The people are in desperate need of water – for their crops, for their animals and for themselves. Half of the 12.3 million people are in need of assistance (reliefweb.int). Six months in, and they are desperately praying for rain. The people have taken to digging in the dirt to find water, and to eating less to save the little supply of food and water that they have.


It is a drought season. A season of begging, pleading and crying out for relief. The sort of season that brings everything to the altar in the search of water.

As broken humans, we have those seasons, too, probably more than we’d like to admit (or maybe it’s just me). The seasons where we are crying out for rain and redemption. I have so much more to say about these seasons – have you noticed that most of the time, it is not God who moves but us?

Hosea 6 talks about a people who have moved from God. It’s a call to return to rain and redemption. Hosea writes in chapter 6 verse 1-2, “Come, and let us return to the Lord; for He has torn, but He will heal us; He has stricken, but He will bind us up. After two days He will revive us; on the third day He will raise us up, that we may live in His sight.”

I love the picture of the three day redemption, a foretelling of the work that would be done on the cross. Hosea says that after two days He will revive us, on the third day He will raise us up. There is a revival process in those two days. And on the third day, we will be raised up. It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming. We are in a drought, but God promises in the third verse, “He will come to us like rain, like the latter and former rain to the earth.”

In the drought week, month, year, He is still good. Isn’t this such a truth sometimes too hard to grasp? When I haven’t felt the rain on my skin, God is still good. When I can’t make sense of the plans that he has laid before me, He is still good. When I am struggling in my sin, He is still working. “He will bind us up.” Like a really warm blanket being wrapped around our shoulders, He is the one who covers us up again. Nothing that I can do, for the Band Aid is shaking in my hands – but His are steady, and He applies it with tenderness.

Like a constant undercurrent, what drives us to continue, when we have all but thrown in the towel and given up, He is what continues to propel us forward.

He is consistent, when I am not.

He is faithful, when I am not.

Nothing good for I have done; He is the one who binds me back to Himself.
Do I cling to that like I believe it, or do I keep walking around in my drought and in my numbness? Like cotton balls pressed onto my ears, sometimes I feel like I can get through whole seasons without opening myself to the truth of the passage of Hosea, that He is reviving me, that I have been, and will be, raised with Christ.

I want to be fully awake for everything that He has to offer. Raised, revived, and awake.

Our pursuit and persistence in the drought, whether it be external or internal circumstances that lead us there, will produce rain in the desert. It is a promise from God, that He will come to us like the rain, downpouring and refreshing. A repeated and continuing gift, latter and former. He has poured it out before, and He will do it again.

He is still the same God who makes rivers in the wasteland (Isaiah 41), who enjoys working with brokenness because there He is most glorified. When we are in the drought, we are most at need, and when we are in our deepest need, our pride no longer hinders us from coming to the throne room. And so we come, pursuing the water

The pursuit pays off, for the rain always comes.

Pray for the rain – for Somalia, and for your own spirit.

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