It’s been raining a lot lately, and something strange, almost ironic, has caught my attention. In neighbourhoods considered elite, where the wealthy reside and standards are assumed to be high, rain has exposed a hidden weakness. Some homes, grand and polished on the outside, have been leaking from rooftops, through ceiling designs, down into bedrooms, soaking valuables. One would expect that these buildings were made with the finest materials to withstand storms, but clearly, appearances aren’t everything.
Even worse, in some areas, there are no proper drainage systems.
The result? Flooded streets, ceased movement, and stillness where there should have been progress. Not because the area lacked status, but because foundations and systems weren’t prepared for the storm.
This isn’t just about architecture; it’s a vivid picture of the Christian life.
Sometimes, as believers, we become confident in how put-together we look. We have the titles, attend the services, serve in ministry, and project strength. But the rain will come. And when it does, it tests the structure, not the style. Jesus said, “The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall—because it had been founded on the rock” (Matthew 7:25, ESV). The difference between collapse and stability lies in the foundation.
The homes that leaked were not necessarily cheap, but perhaps corners were cut, materials compromised, or inspections neglected. Likewise, our walk with God may appear intact until the unseen compromises, bitterness, pride, unconfessed sin, or spiritual laziness begin to show in hard seasons.
Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 3:10-13 that everyone must be careful how they build: “…the fire will test what sort of work each has done.” Just like quality building materials matter for physical homes, faith, obedience, and holiness are the spiritual materials that keep us secure in the storms of life.
Let’s be honest: even in the most “anointed” Christian life, sin can quietly clog the heart like blocked drains in a flooded street. Small unchecked attitudes, a little compromise here, a little pride there, and suddenly, we’re leaking. Isaiah 59:2 says, “But your iniquities have made a separation between you and your God.” Sin blocks fellowship like poor drainage blocks progress.
But here’s the hope: if cracks have appeared, if leaks have started, it’s not too late. David prayed, “Search me, O God, and know my heart… see if there is any offensive way in me” (Psalm 139:23-24). God desires not just beauty-full exteriors, but sound, surrendered hearts.
Let every leak be a loving warning. Let every storm be a reminder to inspect again. The true test of our faith isn’t in sunny days, but in how we stand when the heavens open.
May we build on Christ, with materials that last.
Written by Eunice Appiah(E.A Lovida)
TAC-GH Miracle Assembly, Golf City District
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