What a Rainbow Taught Me on Good Friday

Good Friday. A day already marked by weight, by remembrance, by the quiet acknowledgment that not all stories feel beautiful in the middle.

And then, without warning, the light breaks through.

Its our last day in beautiful Saint Martin. Packing, stressing about reality and trying to just hold on to the beauty and glory of God I saw throughout this trip. And then my husband pointed our a stunning rainbow stretched across the sky, bold and unmistakable, cutting through the darkness like a promise that refused to be ignored.

When Beauty Interrupts the Ending

I stood there, watching it with my kids, and felt something shift.

Because isn’t that how it goes?

We brace ourselves for the storm.

We feel the heaviness.

We assume the story is closing.

And then God gently, unmistakably reminds us—

This is not the end.

“I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.” — Genesis 9:13

That rainbow wasn’t just color in the sky.

It was a covenant. A reminder. A whisper:

I am still here.

I am still faithful.

Even in the dark.

Good Friday Doesn’t Look Like Hope

Good Friday is not the kind of day that feels like celebration. It’s the day of sorrow. Of sacrifice. Of things that don’t make sense.

It’s the day where everything looks lost.

And yet, standing there under that sky, I couldn’t help but see the parallel.

Darkness overhead.

Uncertainty in the air.

And right in the middle of it—

a promise breaking through.

“Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” — Psalm 30:5

The disciples didn’t know Sunday was coming.

Just like we often don’t know what God is doing in our own hardest moments.

But the promise was already in motion.

Mercy in the Middle

This is what I’m learning, slowly and imperfectly:

Mercy isn’t always loud.

It doesn’t always arrive after everything is fixed and beautiful again.

Sometimes, mercy looks like a rainbow in a storm.

A glimpse of goodness before the clouds have even cleared.

Sometimes, it’s God meeting you right in the middle, not after the struggle, but within it.

“The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.” — Psalm 103:8

That moment on the beach wasn’t just about the sky. It was about being reminded that even when life feels heavy, uncertain, or unfinished…

God is still writing something good.

Holding Onto the Promise

We packed up. Suitcases zipped. Sand still somehow everywhere. Vacation officially ending.

But I left with something more than memories.

I left with a picture in my heart of a rainbow breaking through darkness on a day that reminds us that the darkest moments often come

right before redemption.

So if you’re in a season that feels heavy, if the clouds feel thick and the ending feels unclear…

Hold on.

The rainbow doesn’t mean the storm never came.

It means God never left.

And sometimes, that’s the miracle we need most.