Until The Rain Be Past

Text: Song of Solomon 2:11 — “For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.”

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You can almost hear music in that verse.

After months of gray skies and cold wind, the bride lifts her face and says, “The winter is past.”

It’s the sound of hope. The feel of life returning after silence.

That’s what rain means.

Rain is God’s reminder that He hasn’t forgotten the earth.

Rain means the drought has an end. The season is changing.

The Bible often uses rain to describe what happens when heaven touches the human heart.

So today we’ll walk through three rains — really, three seasons of grace:

1. The Early Rain — God begins the work.

2. The Latter Rain — God finishes the work.

3. The Eternal Reign — God completes the story.

And the truth tying it together is simple:

> The early rain was a forecast of the season to come.

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1. The Early Rain — God Begins the Work

If you’ve ever lived through drought, you know what hope sounds like when the first drop hits tin.

In Israel, the “early rain” came after months of scorching heat. The ground was cracked and lifeless, but that first gentle shower softened it so the farmer could sow again.

The early rain didn’t bring the harvest — it brought the promise of one.

It was the forecast that the barren season was ending.

The Texas Story

A story from drought-stricken Texas captures it perfectly.

For months no rain had fallen. The land was brown, wells were low, tempers shorter than the days. Desperate believers finally called a Friday-night prayer meeting.

One farmer stopped for fuel on the way. In the back seat lay an umbrella.

The station attendant mocked, “Why carry that? It hasn’t rained for months.”

The farmer smiled. “We’re praying for rain tonight,” he said. “I’m bringing what I’ll need when God answers.”

That night the saints travailed in prayer. Around midnight thunder cracked, lightning flashed, and rain poured. Driving home, the farmer stopped again. “See the rain?” he asked.

The cowboy, drenched to the hat brim, growled, “If you Christians ever let it get this bad again, I’ll tan your hide all over east Texas!”

Faith-filled intercession doesn’t merely talk about God’s power — it acts on it.

Like that farmer, the disciples in Acts 2 came to the upper room expecting heaven to move. They didn’t bring umbrellas, but they brought hearts wide open. And when the Holy Spirit descended, it was the early rain of the gospel age.

The descent of the Holy Spirit upon the church in the days of the apostles was the beginning of the early, or former rain, and glorious was the result.

Three thousand were baptized in a day. Fear melted into courage. Ordinary people spoke with heavenly fire.

That was God saying, “The season has changed.”

And He still sends that kind of rain.

Every soul needs an early-rain moment — when the heart softens, when repentance sprouts, when forgiveness soaks deep.

Maybe you’ve felt crusted over by disappointment or guilt. The early rain is God’s whisper: “I can still work this ground.”

Don’t despise small beginnings. The drizzle that darkens the dust is the same water that fills the river later on.

Pentecost wasn’t the conclusion of God’s story; it was the forecast that greater showers were coming.

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2. The Latter Rain — God Finishes the Work

Months later came heavier clouds. The “latter rain” fell just before harvest, swelling the heads of grain, bringing the crop to maturity.

If the early rain started the seed, the latter rain finished it.

Where the first softened, the second strengthened.

Where the first promised, the second produced.

That’s God’s pattern in grace.

He begins with conviction; He ends with completion.

He starts by breaking ground; He finishes by bringing fruit.

Ellen White described it this way:

> “Near the close of earth’s harvest, a special bestowal of spiritual grace is promised to prepare the church for the coming of the Son of man.”

— The Faith I Live By, p. 333.

The latter rain isn’t about starting faith; it’s about maturing faith.

It’s the deep, refining work of the Spirit that ripens character and readies hearts for the coming King.

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The Little Old Saint Who Still Said “Amen”

You know, the latter rain doesn’t fall where hearts are closed; it falls where hearts are open — even when things feel dry.

Reminds me of a little old saint who came to church every Sabbath and sat right down front.

The preacher was predictable. The sermons were steady, maybe a bit too steady.

But every week, that dear lady found something to say “Amen!” about.

Every time she did, it startled the whole congregation — because nobody else ever said a word.