Yesterday

Yesterday afternoon, the skies opened and shot bullets of torrential rain at us. Monsoon-style. Shortly afterwards, the sun shone again and the ground began to steam. It steamed and steamed until there was an eerie fogginess shrouding the world in mist as darkness fell around 9 pm. 

An hour later, a mighty army of (sorry to mention this Chrisie) snails and slugs had slithered out of their green bunkers and moved en masse across the path and on up the wall of the house. 

This morning, dewdrops (or left-over raindrops?) clung beautifully to the spider webs whose numbers always amaze me. Stretched between prickly gorse branches, filling spaces between the ripening brambles, reaching between rowan leaves showing the faintest hint of autumn colours: I love the webs but you can keep the spiders.

The skies have cleared, the sun is shining bright and warm and we are enjoying another summer day – though the drenched lawn tells a story of yesterday’s deluge.

Whatever hits us in life, has consequences. Some are exquisite, some are curious, some are out of a horror movie. When you’ve built your life on a rock, though, you can be assured that whatever problems assail you, Jesus never leaves you. He is always there, loving you, whispering words of guidance or condolence or encouragement or laughing with you.

A crutch? Never. A friend and a powerful Lord worthy of love and praise.

Drip drip or deluge?

Yesterday I wrote about the way a heavy rainfall runs off sun-caked mud, while a soft rain gradually renders the ground porous and able to soak up the water.

And I missed the point. I got close to it by thinking about our own individual witnesses as Christians to a non-Christian world around us. But tomorrow is Pentecost – the day the Holy Spirit drenched the early Christians in power from above and filled them with joy and love and confidence in the power of God to change things. 

There is a sense among many of us that God is preparing to move in a mighty way in this land of Scotland, and who knows – he might decide to start in Deeside. So it is our job to prepare the way, to plough up the ground, to cry out to God to soften the hearts of those who are so empty and lost in our area, so that they will recognize the reality and truth of God’s presence and love when he comes in power.

More prayer. Constant prayer. Hammering on heaven’s gates for our neighbours and friends and family. Drip-drip now, so when the deluge comes, many dry and thirsty souls will be refreshed and revitalised.

I’m off to pray as I walk the dog and enjoy the sun on another lovely day.

A Gentle Rain

Bliss. Sun-drenched days with no rain.

After several weeks of unremitting damp and deluge, the tracks we walk were miry and squelchy. But now, a week or more into a summer scene, those muddy tracks are hardening into solid bricks of rock-hard dirt. 

As I walked this morning, I remembered the caked earth in southern California, sun-baked and hard as concrete. When it rains there, it often pours, and the water comes too fast to break through the tough skin of earth and soak in. So it runs off into the sea, flooding vast areas as it does so. (Or it did, before the Flood Control District constructed an intricate system of channels and reservoirs and dams.)

What is needed, of course, is a gentle rain, tickling the earth until it is soft enough to absorb the moisture.

We had that this morning here. Not rain exactly, but a fairly thick fog leaving fat drops of water suspended in trees and bushes, ready to drench the unsuspecting walker who ventured too near an overhanging branch. Millions of lacy spider webs, picked out by the heavy dew, are scattered across the gorse and honeysuckle. Beautiful.

Now the sun is out again, teasing seeds and seedlings into a growth spurt (I hope), refreshed by the soft dew.

Some people have lived in the glow of a worldly sun for so long that their spirits are dried out, hard packed and unable to absorb a deluge of spiritual refreshment. It can be a mistake for an enthusiastic Christian to share too much, to be too enthusiastic about her faith, when speaking to someone whose spirit is hardened. Far better to drip feed faith, to live it out in a way that arouses curiosity and stimulates questions as the spiritual earth softens in preparation to receive the deluge.

Christians, too, can become hardened to the refreshing rain of the Spirit of God. They can become so busy keeping church life and activity going, as well as their other endeavours, that their expectations of what a wonder-working God can do disappear. When the Holy Spirit falls in a deluge, as in a revival-type situation, manifesting himself in various unexpected ways, those who have been keeping the soil of their souls moist and prepared joyfully drink in the blessings, while others who have been hardened by Christian routine and diminished expectations may remain hard, unable to absorb the refreshing Spirit of God.

May I never become so hardened.