willing it to rain

Dear Friends,

All day today, I've been wishing that it would rain.  As I went about my day with this thought, God began shaping this poem within me.  It is in the first person, though I personally am not called to the mission field (at this time).  I've gone before, but right now, this is my call:  to serve him in writing and use my hands to trumpet God's words.

In the beginning, the desire was to stay out of the rain.

The rain of the spirit was all around--

I knew about prostitution, about the invisible children, about the orphans in Africa--

But I felt no desire to get my feet wet.

"Oh, no.  The rain is all wet and nasty.  

Others are interested,

Others don't mind getting soaked 

But I'm afraid.

If I get too close, 

I might get sick,

and that would never do."

But as time went on,

I felt the dryness of my soul,

and almost unbidden,

the thought came,

"Lord, I wish it would rain."

There was nothing wrong, really.

I was not wandering in a barren wasteland.

There were lush gardens,

Well-manicured lawns

and fat and happy people 

just like me

to all sides.

But I couldn't help thinking

that there was something missing,

that somehow things could be

well, better

if only it would rain.

I would read about rain online,

Others in the midst of a perpetual downfall would write about it.

My friends on Facebook would talk about their storms,

the midnight vigils downtown, 

seeking and saving those caught in human trafficking,

the meetings at church

getting ready for a summer building hope in Mexico,

the pleas for help

from others caught in a deluge of need and needing support.

And I would virtually get a pinky toe wet.

Praying for my brothers and sisters online.

Sometimes I could even feel the mist,

the slightest taste of the rain of the spirit that they were experiencing,

and for a time,

I was satisfied.

But then the desire came stronger.

Reading was no longer enough.

Lord, I need it to rain.

I actually want it to rain

on me!

And so, cautiously, I went in search of rain,

umbrella at the ready.

I went to meetings given by missionaries in Africa

and as they spoke,

the rain began to descend.  

The majority of us listeners put up our umbrellas,

prepared to be part of the rain,

but not yet ready to actually be in it.

However, we all felt the rain

as we reached into our purses and gave money 

(braving the rain to take the collection plate).

I talked with my friend about Magdalene Hope

and as she spoke with delight about helping those caught up in trafficking,

the rain of the spirit welled up and over

and threatened to inhabit me as well,

but I wasn't ready.

I backed away,

Safe in the vacuum of,

"Sister, I'll pray for you."

And as I left, I thought,

"Well, that was close!"

But there's the problem.

With my new understanding,

I no longer could ignore what was happening.

I'd never noticed it before,

But it was raining all around me.

People were in all stages of accepting the rain,

Some running with newspapers over their heads,

trying to stay dry.

Others were walking with overshoes and slickers,

Bustling and happy in God's service.

Still others were slogging in rain-drenched dirt 

that stuck to them and pulled on them

so that they were in danger of being sucked in--

Why was nobody at their side to help?

That's when I realized--

Nobody was at their side, 

because we were too busy

no, I was too busy

trying to stay out of the rain.

So here I am,

No hat, 

no overshoes, 

nothing but my spirit overflowing with Your love,

and saying

at last,

Lord, I NEED YOUR RAIN.

Let it come down on me,

Overwhelm me,

Overcome my fears

my phobias,

my sophisticated sense of "not me".

Let it rain on me,

Now.

Amen.