May 1st, 2026
by Stacy Long
by Stacy Long
When Rain Falls: Finding Peace in the Storm
There's a powerful image that captures what it means to live as a follower of Christ in this world—the Morton Salt girl. You know the one: a young girl walking confidently through the rain, umbrella overhead, pouring salt from a container without a care in the world. The slogan reads, "When it rains, it pours."
The innovation that made Morton Salt famous wasn't just about selling salt. It was about creating salt that wouldn't clump when humidity came. While other salts would harden and become useless in damp conditions, Morton's kept flowing freely. This simple image holds a profound spiritual truth about how we're called to live.
The Salt That Keeps Flowing
We are the salt of the earth. But what happens to us when the rains of adversity come? Do we clump up, becoming ineffective and unusable? Or do we continue to pour out, to give, to serve, to love—even when conditions aren't ideal?
The girl under the umbrella has protection. She has covering. The rain falls all around her, but she keeps walking, keeps moving forward, keeps pouring. This is the picture of the church—protected not from the storm, but in the storm. Our eyes remain fixed upward, our feet keep moving forward, and our salt keeps flowing to a world desperately in need of preservation and hope.
Those outside the covering don't have this hope. They're looking to see if we truly shine in adversity, if our faith holds when tested, if our love persists when it costs us something.
The Hebrew Heart of God
There's a Hebrew word that's almost impossible to translate into English: hesed. The closest we can get is "loving kindness" or "unfailing love," but even these fall short. The Greek language tries with agape, but still can't fully capture it.
Hesed is the kind of love a mother has for her newborn—that inexplicable, unbreakable bond that transcends reason and circumstance. It's covenant love. It's the love that persists when the beloved is unlovely. It's the love of mothers who still love sons in prison. It's the love that doesn't make sense to anyone on the outside.
When God describes Himself in Exodus 34, He says: "The Lord, the Lord God, compassionate, merciful, slow to get angry, abounding in chesed and truth." This is God's self-portrait. This is who He is at His core—overflowing with this covenant, unconditional, mother-like love.
Throughout Scripture, this theme repeats:
"His hesed endures forever" (Psalm 136—repeated 26 times)
"I desire hesed, not sacrifice" (Hosea 6:6)
"Through the Lord's hesed we are not consumed" (Lamentations 3:22)
This is the God we serve. This is the love that covers us like an umbrella in the storm.
The Promise of Trouble
Here's where many of us get confused. We've been taught—sometimes directly, sometimes subtly—that if we have enough faith, we won't have problems. That pain means we're doing something wrong. That trouble indicates a lack of trust.
But Jesus said something radically different on His last night before the cross: "I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world" (John 16:33).
Notice the structure: In Jesus, we have peace. In the world, we have trouble. These aren't contradictory realities—they're simultaneous ones.
The question isn't "Why do I have pain?" We have pain because we're in the world, and Jesus promised we would. The real question is: "Do I have peace in my pain?"
Jesus had trouble. He had pain. He walked through the darkest valley any human has ever walked. Yet He had peace because He knew He wasn't alone. He knew His Father was with Him, walking every step alongside Him.
The Epidemic We're Ignoring
Here's a startling reality: trauma isn't just about going through something painful. Trauma is going through something painful alone.
We can endure incredibly difficult circumstances and come through whole if we have people who love us walking alongside us, and if we know God is with us. But when we feel isolated, abandoned, left to figure it out ourselves—that's when pain becomes trauma.
Recent statistics reveal a crisis:
The percentage of people who say they have no close friends has quadrupled in the last decade
54% of Americans say no one knows them well
36% of Americans report feeling lonely frequently or all the time
This is an epidemic, and it's happening inside our churches just as much as outside them. We can attend services, participate in Bible studies, know people's faces, and still be desperately lonely. Because loneliness isn't about how many people we know—it's about whether we are truly known.
The Currency of Heaven
The Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—exists in perfect, eternal relationship. They are a community of hesed love, completely connected, absolutely one. And here's the remarkable thing: we're invited into that relationship.
The currency of heaven is love. It's relational. And we were made in God's image, which means we were made for this. Our brains and bodies are literally wired for connection. We cannot grow into people of love without other people. We cannot heal our past hurts in isolation.
Brain science confirms what Scripture has always taught: there is no healing outside of relationship. We get hurt in relationships, and we get healed in relationships.
The Early Church Pattern
The book of Acts gives us a picture of what the church looked like when it was healthy and growing:
"They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers... And all who believed were together and had all things in common... And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved" (Acts 2:42-47).
Notice the elements: devotion to each other, daily togetherness, sharing meals in homes, glad and generous hearts, constant praise. This wasn't a top-down program. It was a bottom-up conviction that they were family.
The Power of Gratitude
Here's something fascinating: the quality of our relationships often depends on the attitude we bring to them. When we approach God or others with thanksgiving, we experience the interaction as good. When we come with bitterness or resentment, even positive interactions feel negative.
Studies show that people often experience more pleasure planning a vacation than actually being on it. Why? Because in the planning stage, our minds are filled with hope and expectation. We're enjoying benefits we haven't even experienced yet.
We can do the same with relationships—with God and with people. Psalm 100:4 tells us: "Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise. Give thanks to him; bless his name."
There's a way to approach God, and it starts with gratitude.
Two Pictures of Reality
Imagine a massive banquet table. In one picture, it's filled with people from every nation, laughing, celebrating, feasting together—the wedding supper of the Lamb that Jesus described.
In another picture, that same table seats just one person—alone, isolated, surrounded by wealth but devoid of relationship.
Both are real possibilities. Both are choices we make every day. Jesus is trying to bring the first picture—heaven—to earth. But our culture, even our Christian culture, often looks more like the second.
The difference between these two realities isn't money or success or even theology. It's relationship. It's our conviction about the importance of connection. It's the rhythms we choose for our lives.
Keep Pouring
When the rains come—and they will come—will your salt keep flowing? Will you keep walking forward under the covering, eyes fixed on the One who loves you with hesed, feet moving toward others who need what you have to offer?
The world is watching to see if we shine in adversity, if our hope holds when tested, if our love persists when it's costly.
We were made for connection. We were made for hesed. We were made to be known and to know others deeply. And in that knowing, in that vulnerability, in that consistent, quality connection—that's where healing happens. That's where we become like Jesus. That's where heaven touches earth.
When it rains, keep pouring.
(This blog was created from Stacy Long's original sermon using pulpit.ai)
There's a powerful image that captures what it means to live as a follower of Christ in this world—the Morton Salt girl. You know the one: a young girl walking confidently through the rain, umbrella overhead, pouring salt from a container without a care in the world. The slogan reads, "When it rains, it pours."
The innovation that made Morton Salt famous wasn't just about selling salt. It was about creating salt that wouldn't clump when humidity came. While other salts would harden and become useless in damp conditions, Morton's kept flowing freely. This simple image holds a profound spiritual truth about how we're called to live.
The Salt That Keeps Flowing
We are the salt of the earth. But what happens to us when the rains of adversity come? Do we clump up, becoming ineffective and unusable? Or do we continue to pour out, to give, to serve, to love—even when conditions aren't ideal?
The girl under the umbrella has protection. She has covering. The rain falls all around her, but she keeps walking, keeps moving forward, keeps pouring. This is the picture of the church—protected not from the storm, but in the storm. Our eyes remain fixed upward, our feet keep moving forward, and our salt keeps flowing to a world desperately in need of preservation and hope.
Those outside the covering don't have this hope. They're looking to see if we truly shine in adversity, if our faith holds when tested, if our love persists when it costs us something.
The Hebrew Heart of God
There's a Hebrew word that's almost impossible to translate into English: hesed. The closest we can get is "loving kindness" or "unfailing love," but even these fall short. The Greek language tries with agape, but still can't fully capture it.
Hesed is the kind of love a mother has for her newborn—that inexplicable, unbreakable bond that transcends reason and circumstance. It's covenant love. It's the love that persists when the beloved is unlovely. It's the love of mothers who still love sons in prison. It's the love that doesn't make sense to anyone on the outside.
When God describes Himself in Exodus 34, He says: "The Lord, the Lord God, compassionate, merciful, slow to get angry, abounding in chesed and truth." This is God's self-portrait. This is who He is at His core—overflowing with this covenant, unconditional, mother-like love.
Throughout Scripture, this theme repeats:
"His hesed endures forever" (Psalm 136—repeated 26 times)
"I desire hesed, not sacrifice" (Hosea 6:6)
"Through the Lord's hesed we are not consumed" (Lamentations 3:22)
This is the God we serve. This is the love that covers us like an umbrella in the storm.
The Promise of Trouble
Here's where many of us get confused. We've been taught—sometimes directly, sometimes subtly—that if we have enough faith, we won't have problems. That pain means we're doing something wrong. That trouble indicates a lack of trust.
But Jesus said something radically different on His last night before the cross: "I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world" (John 16:33).
Notice the structure: In Jesus, we have peace. In the world, we have trouble. These aren't contradictory realities—they're simultaneous ones.
The question isn't "Why do I have pain?" We have pain because we're in the world, and Jesus promised we would. The real question is: "Do I have peace in my pain?"
Jesus had trouble. He had pain. He walked through the darkest valley any human has ever walked. Yet He had peace because He knew He wasn't alone. He knew His Father was with Him, walking every step alongside Him.
The Epidemic We're Ignoring
Here's a startling reality: trauma isn't just about going through something painful. Trauma is going through something painful alone.
We can endure incredibly difficult circumstances and come through whole if we have people who love us walking alongside us, and if we know God is with us. But when we feel isolated, abandoned, left to figure it out ourselves—that's when pain becomes trauma.
Recent statistics reveal a crisis:
The percentage of people who say they have no close friends has quadrupled in the last decade
54% of Americans say no one knows them well
36% of Americans report feeling lonely frequently or all the time
This is an epidemic, and it's happening inside our churches just as much as outside them. We can attend services, participate in Bible studies, know people's faces, and still be desperately lonely. Because loneliness isn't about how many people we know—it's about whether we are truly known.
The Currency of Heaven
The Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—exists in perfect, eternal relationship. They are a community of hesed love, completely connected, absolutely one. And here's the remarkable thing: we're invited into that relationship.
The currency of heaven is love. It's relational. And we were made in God's image, which means we were made for this. Our brains and bodies are literally wired for connection. We cannot grow into people of love without other people. We cannot heal our past hurts in isolation.
Brain science confirms what Scripture has always taught: there is no healing outside of relationship. We get hurt in relationships, and we get healed in relationships.
The Early Church Pattern
The book of Acts gives us a picture of what the church looked like when it was healthy and growing:
"They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers... And all who believed were together and had all things in common... And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved" (Acts 2:42-47).
Notice the elements: devotion to each other, daily togetherness, sharing meals in homes, glad and generous hearts, constant praise. This wasn't a top-down program. It was a bottom-up conviction that they were family.
The Power of Gratitude
Here's something fascinating: the quality of our relationships often depends on the attitude we bring to them. When we approach God or others with thanksgiving, we experience the interaction as good. When we come with bitterness or resentment, even positive interactions feel negative.
Studies show that people often experience more pleasure planning a vacation than actually being on it. Why? Because in the planning stage, our minds are filled with hope and expectation. We're enjoying benefits we haven't even experienced yet.
We can do the same with relationships—with God and with people. Psalm 100:4 tells us: "Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise. Give thanks to him; bless his name."
There's a way to approach God, and it starts with gratitude.
Two Pictures of Reality
Imagine a massive banquet table. In one picture, it's filled with people from every nation, laughing, celebrating, feasting together—the wedding supper of the Lamb that Jesus described.
In another picture, that same table seats just one person—alone, isolated, surrounded by wealth but devoid of relationship.
Both are real possibilities. Both are choices we make every day. Jesus is trying to bring the first picture—heaven—to earth. But our culture, even our Christian culture, often looks more like the second.
The difference between these two realities isn't money or success or even theology. It's relationship. It's our conviction about the importance of connection. It's the rhythms we choose for our lives.
Keep Pouring
When the rains come—and they will come—will your salt keep flowing? Will you keep walking forward under the covering, eyes fixed on the One who loves you with hesed, feet moving toward others who need what you have to offer?
The world is watching to see if we shine in adversity, if our hope holds when tested, if our love persists when it's costly.
We were made for connection. We were made for hesed. We were made to be known and to know others deeply. And in that knowing, in that vulnerability, in that consistent, quality connection—that's where healing happens. That's where we become like Jesus. That's where heaven touches earth.
When it rains, keep pouring.
(This blog was created from Stacy Long's original sermon using pulpit.ai)
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