Heat. Merciless heat. The weather had been very hot for several days. And though dark clouds drifted across the sky, somehow they always seemed to pass us by. Our garden, suffering for days without a proper rainfall, began to wither.
I was tired. The previous days had been full of work—office responsibilities, maintenance around the property, caring for the garden—and that day I was home alone. Watering everything outside was not a task I was looking forward to doing.
So I prayed, looking wistfully at the clouds.
“Lord, if You would send some rain, it would help so much.”
It was not a dramatic prayer, just a simple request from someone weary.
Then I walked into the greenhouse. The vegetables inside needed watering regardless of whether it rained, so I spent quite a while tending them. By the time I finished, I stepped back outside and looked at the sky.
Still no rain. My weather app encouraged me to believe that cloudy was the best I could hope for today.
With a quiet sigh, I picked up the hose and began watering the garden. Plant after plant, wrestling with a hose that my husband usually manages much better than I do, I eventually ensured every thirsty plant had received its share of water.
When I finally laid the hose down and turned to shut off the faucet, the rain began to fall. I put in all that work only to have the rain not fall on dry ground.
I could not help but smile—not at the fact that God had sent rain, but at how small my faith was that He would actually do so.
Now, before anyone misunderstands, this is not an article about expecting God to water our gardens every time we ask. The Bible does not teach us to replace responsibility with presumption. Sometimes God sends rain; sometimes He expects us to carry the watering can.
But that afternoon exposed something in my own heart.
How often do I pray for something and then immediately proceed as though everything depends entirely on me?
I pray for wisdom, then rush into making decisions before listening. I pray for open doors, then spend all my energy forcing them open myself. I pray that God will touch someone’s heart, then become anxious because I cannot see Him working quickly enough. I pray for His provision, but carry the weight as though He had never promised to provide.
It is surprisingly easy to involve God only at the beginning of a situation. We invite Him into the conversation, but then politely take back control.
While prayer becomes our introduction, self-reliance becomes our strategy.
Mission teaches this lesson over and over again.
We pray for people who have never heard the gospel, yet months—or years—can pass without visible results. We pray for workers, for finances, for opportunities, for changed hearts.
Sometimes God answers quickly. More often, He invites us to walk by faith while He works in ways we cannot yet see.
That afternoon, I watered the garden anyway. There was nothing wrong with that. The plants needed water, and they received it. But I have not forgotten the quiet lesson that arrived with the first drops of rain.
Sometimes the greatest obstacle to seeing God work is not a lack of faith that keeps us from prayer. It is a lack of faith to wait.
Perhaps today you are praying for something important. A family member. A ministry. Financial provision. Direction. Healing. A person who is yet to know Christ.
Keep praying. Keep obeying.
But do not become so busy answering your own prayers that you leave no room for God to answer them.
Sometimes the rain begins to fall only after we finally put the hose down.
