In the last several years I could probably count the number of genuine rainstorms on one hand–maybe two. Maybe.

It has been dry. Cattle-sell-off, water-restriction, tree-crisis dry.

When I saw the orange-clad protesters so angry, so savage in Austin, I thought of a time a few years ago when governors, ours included, organized prayer events to beseech God for rain.

We turn to a God we barely acknowledge when all our science cannot save us.

Argue with me if you want. I don’t mind. But until you can prove otherwise I will maintain–this glorious outpouring of rain in Texas belongs to a God of love who mourns over all His children.

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