I enjoy the rain. I fondly recall as a youth playing under a tin carport while deafening rain pounded down. I think of the puddle that formed at the end of our driveway, which was perfectly suited to be sat in. I feel the excitement of racing my siblings on our bikes through the moving water. I remember the comfort of a hug after claps of thunder conjured up images of cannons blasting on the high seas frightened me. This joy remains with me as the African rain soaks and floods the ground all around.
My African friends don't have these same feelings or memories. In fact, if asked, most would tell you the only good thing about rain is that it grows crops. To put it bluntly, here, water often brings destruction and death. Poor infrastructure and drainage trap villagers, and excess water destroys mud huts. Little clothing results in children frequently spending many hours in wet clothes, getting sick, and exposing themselves to different diseases. And in the need for water people have been washed away by currents they can't fight in the risen streams and lakes.
My comfort is others' nightmare. These natural, not-so-subtle differences bring me to a place of worship. Our God is magnificent; in my joy and others' fear, His power is still magnified; He's still called upon, and he still works things for his glory. Whether the rain speaks to me words of remembrance or calls out to others issues of warning, they are both a natural revelation of God Himself to all peoples around the world.