Have You Ever Seen the Rain?
I had not sat out on a porch and taken in a good thunderstorm in a long time. Too much time with my body and mind and spirit willingly confined to the indoors. I think I forget just how much of an outdoor man I am, and I cannot help but think I would realize it all anew if I could just rediscover the boy inside. As I sat on the porch tonight, there were distant memories of sitting on the porch swing at home in Springfield. Suddenly I felt I could appreciate it. The sound of a healthy shower signaling the true arrival of the warmer seasons. The cool of the night. The freedom of shorts. The bit of mist that you catch even while avoiding the brunt of the rain under the shelter of the porch. And of course the distant slap of mild thunder preceded by heat lightning. But tonight I observed something else; something that pulled me out of the vague memories of childhood and into the quiet contemplation of manhood.
I noticed the accumulation of water in puddles in the spot of ground that separates our apartment from the driveway. My thoughts tracked along to thinking of how the rains that spell health and life for us and our world can also serve for their hurt and ruin. My thoughts drifted to the great flood of the Prophet Noah. O how the rains that the farmer so longs for can overwhelm the precious earth and flood its soil, spilling out and carrying with it the fruit that has been born thus far!
Having just come from my first personal evening prayer rule in many weeks, I felt as though God were telling me to take notice and observe His creation and thus how He works. So often I am tempted to try and do everything at once and expect the results just as quickly. There was a joke in an early episode of the ABC show Boy Meets World in which Cory’s mother reminds him of an attempt he made at taking all 30 showers and the beginning of the month. I sympathize with this naïve and foolish attempt at expecting to accomplish all at once what can only be done step by consistent step.
There is no substitute for the pain-staking work of grinding out the tough stuff day by day. And as a farmer cultivating a field or the rains falling on that field, the work cannot be accomplished in one day or night. Even the most arid environs of our world, if subjected to too much rain in a given span, will no longer profit and a flood will result. The ground can only drink so much at a time. For rain to be most affective, it must fall slowly and consistently. Then, crops grow, deserts are turned into lush gardens, and the fields reclaim their rightfully green luster.
This is a difficult truth to accept when it comes to the spiritual life. I know it is for me. But there truly is no other path. Often (and again I say this from my own immaturity), when we make even the smallest step toward God, we expect Him to come to us and make His brilliant presence known to us and turn us into super-saints. However, this is an utter rejection of the freedom of God to approach us how and when He chooses. But more than that, it causes us to fool ourselves into thinking that were He to give us what we desire, it would do more harm than good. Like rain falling onto even the thirstiest, most arid plain, the glory and presence and grace of God can only come to us in small amounts at a time. If He were to come to us in the way we ask, our hearts would flood and we would thus lose the small bit of precious fruit that we have. Rather, we must allow God His time as the master cultivator to grow us in the manner which He knows is best: slowly and persistently. And this can only come in proportion to which we draw near to Him and open ourselves to Him as a flower opens itself to the sun. Let us not become discouraged at the slowness with which God appears to be working in us. Let us remember the words of Peter that God is not slack as some count slackness, but with Him a thousand years is as a day. Let us continue, and be constant, in prayer and reading and partaking of the Holy Mysteries and attending services. St. Isaac the Syrian said, “A small, but always persistent, discipline is a great force; for a soft drop, falling persistently, hollows out hard rock.”
So let us take courage and be joyful, even when it appears nothing is happening. God never really leaves us. Our daily prayers tell us that God is everywhere present and filling all things. We are like plants being grown. And just like a plant growing in the soil, our hearts are often growing in small ways, under the surface, so gradually that it avoids our detection. Even careful, close observation of a plant can neglect to see its true progress. But if we trust in God, and remain consistent and faithful, we will soon find ourselves amazed at the harvest He has wrought in us. He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him (Ps. 126:6). Amen.
