Sheets of rain pound the thirsty ground. And we are all thirsty, if we are honest.
Are the heavens gracious or cruel, as torrents of rain wash the filth still settling from our roof just cleaned, a few days ago.
And when does the brick builder come back to build? Adding layers to our patio, abandoned because of each stone’s heaviness?
Why have the laborers fled? Has the tilted garden, browned sunflowers bent their heads? Have they finally surrendered?
The tomatoes offered their harvest, and now yield to the land they were once nourished from…
Soil to soil, dust to dust.
And yet, the human heart refuses to bow to the slaying of water drowning the earth? Have we lost touch or just stoppped giving ear to the earth that calls us to rest?
Human walls in square homes have led us to think we are separate, significant, useful apart from the One who made us…
The land that fed us, this place that gives sun and rain to tend to the garden of our souls.
Isolated. Independent. Self-sufficient. The lies keep plummeting our thirsty hearts as rain jackets of deception have keep us from the truth of what we really are…
Needy, dependent, co-existent with creation…
The made and not the maker. The needy, not the needed.
Oh that we might fall on the knees of our hearts; break, bend, fold if we must, like a hand of cards we have been clinging to, yet bluffing.
We protect our own game. Yet, the eyes of the Father sees behind every close-handed, scheming, deceitful plan to rise on our own, apart from Him.
The water of His heart waiting to wash away the filth clinging to us from teachings of the fooled, lies we have told ourselves, the tarnish from just living in a hard and broken world.
And I wonder, if the sun will rise again today?
Rays beaming down on the politicized life we have created for ourselves? Will we stay protected behind our screens, straight walls, cold houses, dry from the rain we are needing internally?
And when did we think, lavished in the rain, His pounding presence was evil or ugly?
Is it because it washes away the make-up we have all placed on for play? Does it strip away religion we use like a stoic game, hiding us from our shame, white-washing us instead of cleansing us from the truth of our pain?
Isn’t following Jesus, not a hiding, denying, protecting, pretending….But a full-blown standing in the floods of His presence; wet, worn, drenched, undone?
Doesn’t following Him mean, all we see in and of ourselves is useless, empty. And the only thing worthy is that we carry His reflection, even amidst the pain?
Can we remedy the lies that tell us Christianity is something propped up, carefully organized…And still see His sandles brushing across the dust, towards us, with grace and humility?
Are we still captivated by His words? Or do we just use Him like some label we cling to for justification?
Yet, He justifies us.
But He also takes the hand we are holding, and pulls us from the game. He strips us from ourselves, and makes us realize, washed and clean holds precidence over the tidy and self-abled.
We are nothing in our carefully stick-built houses, in light of the clouds strapped across the heavens holding back the stars.
We are nothing in our little made-up worlds, with man-made theologies, condemning our brothers, while destroying others with our own self-righteousness.
We are nothing when we act like rain, pounding other people, instead of trusting we each have legs, each have a choice to follow God in the humble act of walking from our shelters, out into the rain.
We each are accountable. We each have a choice. We can’t make the willing-less lay down their addictions, vices or cutting opinions.
All we can do is lead the way…
Change the norm. Break out from the lies that keep us isolated, hiding, selfish and succumbed to the deceptive barriers that tell us; only we matter.
A world awaits with brilliant patterns sweeping across the sky.
And yes, it is wet and sometimes weary in the walking. It is dark outside. And it would be useless to step blindly in the blackness, without the spotlight of His love.
While fools stumble, the blind lead eachother…
But those who trust in the Lord are like gazelles dancing weightless across the earth.
His footsteps always leading. His righteousness never failing. His might and power delivering us from the smoldering image we waist our energy on, trying to impress.
He is The One gift that demands we step out in the rain.
He is Omnipotent and Supreme, not compromising with the ignorant, or dancing with evil, or even fighting against any darkness blanketing our world.
He is God. And we can be confident, He has already won.
And yet, we wait under this cloak of darkness, this torrent flooding us….that it might strip us from ourselves and leave us barren in the Father’s love.
And then, only then, can we rise in a humility that is a magnet to His heart, a righteousness that is not ours but a gift He has given us, as we have exchanged our filthy rags.
It is then, when we have left our world and opened our palm to everything in our hands…
That He reigns, now, today, in our hearts, forever. He lives, like a light shining in and through us. He beams with a love that overshadows all the darkness…
It is then, victory is finally had.
Not because the world stopped crumbling, or the lies stopped lashing themselves around the feet of our victory walk…
Or because the evil people around us began to cease using laws to crush those around them….
But because His Good Book is true.
The water of revival still runs strong and..
A man with nothing, but God, can be washed in His victory, nothing defeating him.
The sky is waking. My morning writings are nearly done. I hear feet patter as a new day reminds me that little ones are a gift, our teachers…beauty in a world gone mad.
Showers still blanket the earth. The dirt that once covered us is now being washed away. And like His mercies, today are new, waiting, anticipating…
What will we do with it all? This gift? This beautiful picture of grace coming to find us, undeserved?
Will we live? Live in His light? Step outside? Let His rain wash us anew; take us, make us, deliver us from ourselves….
So that we might exchange our filth for His cleanliness?
A life inside is no life at all. The clouds open. And they are inviting me and you.
Will we drop the hand we’re holding? Leave our man-made walls? Give up our pride and come, dance out in the rain?
Redemption is just one step away. And He is waiting to set us free.
