Grace Like Rain

It's raining today. A dreary gray morning with a hint of sunshine showing in the cloud breaks. I don't usually like rain (except when its white and fluffy and falling on the ski slopes), but rain is pretty amazing. I tried to recall the water cycle from my science class (which, I guess, is more of an act of a historian at this stage) and this is what I can remember.

First off, rain helps to cleanse the sky, removing things such as pollutents, dust and allergins from the air we breath. In the spring leaving a nice fragance that Glade Air Fresheners can try to imitate but will never capture.

As the rain falls its cleansing continues as it washesthe leaves of plants, but it also hydrates all living things. The nectar of life may be sweetend by grapes, but it really isn't wine. It's water. Water does not feed plants but it does make it possible for plants (and animals) to be nurished. A gentle rain becomes the moisture needed for next summer's crops (in fact wheat will send its roots down a long ways to water. A farmer once told me that when they check moisture levels in a field they hope to find moisture six feet below the surface).

As the water makes its way down through the soil it eventually recharges the aquifer which means it becomes available to farm and city wells for drinking, bathing and watering lawns.

Then of course there's the runoff which goes into rivers or lakes and supports aquatic life. Including the mysterious "wakeboarder". Finally the rain returns to the ocean where it evaporates, becoming clouds and the process starts all over again.

Pretty amazing, really. Like grace.

We sing a song with the phrase "Grace like rain falling down upon me" which seems to me to be pretty descriptive. So often I take rain for granted. I probably would not do so if I lived somewhere with water restrictions due to drought. But I don't. At least not yet. So I note the rain long enough to decide if I need a rain jacket or umbrella and perhaps a change of plans. But that's about it.

God's grace is similar. It tends to fly under the radar unless I am paying close attention. Which I do when there's a major need in my life. But when life is going pretty smoothly and my mind is preoccupied I miss a lot of the little hints of grace that God drops into my life on a daily basis. Without which my life would not be so good. Thus grace, like rain, cleanses and nourishes me and gives me strength. It is good.

But there's another connection. There are times that I don't like the rain even though its a good
thing. And there are times I don't like grace. Flannery O'Connor catches what I mean when she says:

"All human nature vigorously resists grace because grace changes us and the change is painful. Priests resist it as well as others." (Quouted by Phillip Yancy, The Jesus I Never Knew)

The first time I encountered this idea was at a retreat. The speaker's text was from Genesis 32 where Jacob wrestles with God. The text says that they wrestled all night and that finally God touched Jacob's hip, putting it out of joint. Apparently this resulted in Jacob clinging even more tightly to God and, in turn, God blessing him. It seems strange but apparently it was what Jacob needed. That night God changed his name to Israel, and in case Jacob forgot and wanted to return to his "old life", his hip would remind him of the night he wrestled with God. The speaker called this somethnig like "the brokenness of grace."

The idea being that God would allow something difficult or painful to enter my life in order to change me. To remove my self-sufficiency and help me cling more closely to God. The brokenness of grace.

There are days when I would much prefer sunshine than rain. I almost always prefer gentle grace. I have to agree with O'Connor that encountering real grace, real change, can be painful. To often I prefer to be comfortable rather than Christ-like. To be happy rather than holy. Sometimes when I'm experiencing the grace that breaks, I don't think I'll survive. But I always do. And though I may not want to go through it again, I am glad for the results.

If left to myself I would have lots of sunshine and plenty of gentle grace. I would be comfortably content right where I am. Fortunately God loves me too much to leave me where I am.