The Downpour in the Night

There’s something comforting about sleeping to the sound of rain—the steady rhythm, the soft crash of water on the window or roof.

The farmhouse I grew up in had a metal-sheeted roof, so the sound of rain was anything but soft. It crashed against the metal like a song of its own—a very loud, powerful, and raw one at that. I miss that sound. The intensity of the rain declared the power of God in creation and His provision of life-giving water, while the roof echoed His shelter and protection. Both were symbols of who God is—Jehovah Jireh, the Lord who provides.

This morning, I’ve been thinking—how often does sleep quietly keep us from growing closer to God?

Don’t get me wrong—rest is essential. Our health is closely tied to the quality of our sleep. Yet, there is more going on during those quiet hours than just our bodies recharging. The night is a time when God may be working, even while we rest. And at the same time, it’s often when the enemy tries to attack—a time when we are vulnerable.

Jesus warned His disciples to stay alert and pray, lest they fall into temptation. They didn’t listen. Sleep overcame them, and shortly after, they deserted Jesus and fled during His arrest. Peter even denied Jesus three times…

I wonder how many of us can recognize the enemy while in our dreams. Do we know—or even remember—how to rebuke evil in that state? It’s much easier to spot and confront with our eyes open, when we are fully conscious. But what about when we’re asleep? Discernment doesn’t pause just because our bodies do. The world is still moving—and so is God.

There have been nights when I’ve woken up without explanation—just an inner sense that something was happening. And in those moments, I’ve learned to pray. Not because I fully understood, but because I’ve come to recognize that God may be calling me to partner with Him—even in the middle of the night.

This morning at 2am, a song I had never heard before began to play as I slept. The power behind it in worshiping the Lord was so full of raw emotion and love that I had to worship right where I was. I’ve been playing it on repeat most of today.

I must confess, though, that I’m not always obedient in those moments where I’m being drawn. “Just a few more minutes,” I may say. Or I’ll try to pray while lying in the same spot where I had just been sleeping—only to fall right back asleep.

Picture a downpour in the dark. You might not see the rain without light reflecting off it, but you know it’s there. You hear it. Smell it. Feel it. The same is true with God. Just because you can’t see Him working doesn’t mean He isn’t.

He may be moving in ways unseen—nudging, warning, interceding. And He may be calling you to respond, to be a witness in the quiet hours when the world is still. Will you be ready? Or will something else—comfort, sleep, distraction—seem more important?

God doesn’t sleep. And sometimes, neither should we.