It finally rained.
Guatemala and other countries in Central America have been in a drought since March2025. Fortunately, the effects have still only had a “minor impact on agriculture”. (According to Global disaster alert and coordination system).
“Minor” is an interesting word when it comes to droughts.
Growing up, my farming community lived by the rhythms of the harvest.
We knew the towering combine harvesters were more than just machines – they were a symbol of hard work and provision.
In Guatemala, this hard work is done by hand as the fields spread across mountain sides like a great patch-work quilt tossed over the hills.
Even with all the incredible advancements in farming, from GPS-guided tractors to drone mapping, one thing remains constant: we can’t control everything. Farmers in both countries are deeply dependent on rains.
Droughts are scary.
They impact food and security.
They impact work too.
It’s a risky business sowing a crop that may not yield. Folks in the US have lost farms due to factors outside of their control.
Many Guatemalan families depend on the work they can find at harvest time.
As for food and security… a drought can ruin a crop, and thereby impact communities well-being.
In Guatemala, 1 of every 2 children experiences malnutrition– among the highest malnutrition rates in the world. This makes every crop matter.
I remember our church in the heart of the cornfields, faithfully praying for rain.
We prayed for rain to come after planting, or to up ease up during floods, and we prayed to quench the thirst of drought-stricken fields. I saw the heartbreak of withered crops and flooded acres, and it reminded me of a profound truth.
Our community depended on something beyond our capacity to control.
Guatemala depends on this too.
So in this “minor” drought in Guatemala, we see people growing anxious. They know that a failed crop will deeply impact the well-being of the community financially, and nutritionally.
Further, corn is more than just a stable; it represents spiritual sustenance, prosperity. Agriculture is often used in the Bible to spell out deeper truths. It’s deeply connected to our life-giving God.
So when our local church here in Guatemala gathered Wednesday night, and as the rain started falling, our hearts started rising. It was as if heaven was singing with us as that rain danced on the roof above our worshiping congregation.
Rain watered the streets and filled the river.
Rain fell on the dry brown mountain that should be green this time of year.
And rain fell on the crops.
This community has desperately needed this rain.
Just like the farmers who depend on rain, our lives are full of things beyond our control. But in those moments, we learn to trust. We learn to lean on a faithfulness far greater than our own.
We can learn a lot from corn.
