The Rainbow and The Ruins: Rebuilding After Loss

The Rainbow and the Ruins: Rebuilding After Loss

When the Storm is Over, but the Mess Remains

My aunt lives in Asheville, North Carolina—and none of us expected Hurricane Helene to reach that far inland. But last fall, it did.

We visited about a month after the storm, and the aftermath was everywhere. Fallen trees, damaged power lines, unsafe drinking water. Families couldn’t even leave their mountain homes to access stores or shelters.

The ripple effects stretched beyond Asheville. We couldn’t get home via I-40 because part of it had completely washed away. Even Lake Junaluska—usually calm and still—was cluttered with debris: benches, tree limbs, scattered remnants of what once was peaceful.

And even now, six months later, communities like Biltmore Village, the River Arts District, and Swannanoa are still picking up the pieces.

Here’s the truth: just because the skies clear doesn’t mean the storm is truly over.

That’s how emotional storms feel too. The pain doesn’t leave with the clouds. The damage doesn’t disappear when the rain stops. What remains can be overwhelming.

So how do we move forward when life feels unrecognizable?

When Life Feels Like Ruins

Some storms arrive without warning—diagnoses, breakups, betrayals, grief. They shatter the version of life we once knew, leaving behind a mess of questions, heartbreak, and exhaustion.

That’s where the people of Israel found themselves in the book of Joel. After a devastating locust plague, everything was stripped bare—their crops, their economy, even their sense of hope.

It’s no coincidence that many of our storms feel the same: like they’ve eaten away everything good and left us with nothing but loss.

But God’s response in Joel 2 wasn’t to ignore the devastation—it was to meet His people in it.

“Rend your hearts and not your garments. Return to the Lord your God,
for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love…
I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten.”
—Joel 2:13, 25 (ESV)

God doesn’t just promise restoration—He promises intimacy in the rebuilding.

If you're standing in a place that feels barren, take heart:

• God sees what you’ve lost.

• He welcomes your honest return.

• He promises to restore—not to the past, but to something new.

Healing may not be instant, but it’s holy. It’s layered with purpose and covered in grace.

Henri Nouwen once said:

“When we are thrown up and down by the little waves on the surface of our existence, we become easy victims of our manipulative world. But, when we continue to hear the deep gentle voice that blesses us, we can walk through life with a stable sense of well-being and true belonging.”
—Life of the Beloved, p. 60

What the Rainbow Really Means

After his storm—forty days of relentless rain and months of waiting on the waters to recede—Noah saw something new.

A rainbow.

It wasn’t a promise that storms would never come again. It was a covenant: you will never go through them alone.

“I have set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth…
When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant…”
—Genesis 9:13–16 (ESV)

The rainbow wasn’t a symbol of prevention. It was a symbol of presence. It appeared after the flood, not to erase what happened, but to assure Noah that God would be with him in whatever came next.

The same is true for us. The rainbow is God’s way of saying: “I’m still here.”

Rainbow Moments in the Rubble

When standing in the aftermath of the storm, it can be easy to focus on what is right before you. The destruction, the pain, the loss. It is in these moments, though, I have found it best to pause and look for the “rainbow” moment–a sign, whether big or small, that God is present.

Sometimes it’s a kind word from a friend. Sometimes it’s a need met just in time. Sometimes, it’s the peace that comes when we finally stop striving and simply sit in God’s presence.

Rainbow moments don’t erase the pain. But they remind us that God is near.

What is your rainbow moment today?

Wherever you are in the path of the storm–in the middle of it or standing among the remnants of its impact–may you sense and depend on the presence of God. Rebuilding doesn’t mean forgetting; it means honoring what was while walking forward in faith.

Even in the ruins, hope rises. Even in what was lost, God plants new beginnings. The rainbow still stretches across your sky–not as a sign the storm won’t come again, but as a promise you’ll never face it alone.

Reflection Questions

• What “ruins” are you standing in today?

• Where have you already seen God show up in the aftermath?

• What would restoration look like in this season of your life?

Guided Prayer

Lord,
You see the brokenness I carry. You know what’s been washed away by the storm.
Thank You that I don’t have to pretend everything’s fine—You meet me in the mess.
Help me trust You as I rebuild.
Open my eyes to the rainbow moments—reminders of Your promise and Your presence.
Make my spirit fertile ground for whatever You want to grow next.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.