Jesus, Bring the Rain

Don’t ask Jesus to bring the rain and expect to not get wet. I’ve heard it. I sang it. And I got drenched.

I first heard the Mercy Me song Hold Fast years ago on a hurried trip to the children’s hospital. It was the voice of God I needed while I tried to watch the life flight helicopter holding my son and not run the car off the road at the same time. If the speed limit is 55mph you will find me driving 54. Not that day. Hold fast. She’s coming in hot.

That was the first of many speedy deliveries into the children’s hospital. I started singing Mercy Me’s Jesus Bring the Rain as a kind of an anthem, a stick-it-to-ya world. God’s got this, ya’ hear. Well, someone heard. And the rainy season began.

It’s still raining. It’s just a different kind of rain now. Fewer life flights and ambulances, thank you, Jesus. But, there is a heaviness that holds tight. A flood that hasn’t receded from the rains.

Grief weighs heavy. Like the floods, you cannot tell it when you would like it to go away. There is no waiting period and then life can begin again. Grief won’t stay back behind a levee and take the tears and that gut sucking punched feeling with it. Some days are still drenched.

Grief walks in whenever it wants with a memory, a song, dream, any way it wants to walk back into your heart. There is no choosing grief or joy. Sometimes the tears roll unannounced.

But I can choose to let God come close. I will tell anyone that God is close to the broken-hearted because I know. I know broken.I am broken. And I know how much better it is when God is close.

So, the next time we sing those songs in church and I get the urge to yell out to everyone, “Stop! Do you know what you are asking of God?!” I’m just gonna sing louder. I will tell you all to Let it rain down/let it pour. I will praise you in the storm, Lord. Go ahead, God, steal my show. Jesus, bring the rain. An angel of the Lord is encamped around me on these broken days. Bring it.

Favorite song today: Casting Crowns // Nobody ft. Matthew West

5 thoughts on “Jesus, Bring the Rain

  1. I’m not used to grief like this. Selfishly, the grief for Daddy was the first time I lost someone I cared about, and losing Mother hurt deeply, but they were older and had a good life, living with Mom for the 10 years we did are years that I will treasure immensely. But losing Evan was a whole other level. If I let my self, I would cry every day, as it is I just get it hit with the pain with no explanation. You put things so succinctly, which makes me know your pain is indescribable. I try to repeat to myself, that I should be so thankful for the time we had with him, and I am, but I just wanted him longer. My evenings are never the same without his FT calls. I love you and hurt for you.

    Sent from my iPad

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