conjectural navel gazing; jesus in lint form

just some musing...

Prayer does not change God, but it changes the one who prays. ~Søren Kierkegaard

I am waiting for the rain. The disembodied experts on the radio tell me that we are experiencing a bit of a drought. Further south in our country, the drought is even more severe. The land is cracked in places. Trees are wilting. This is a pretty dramatic picture…a wilted tree.

In the little yard of the parsonage, I see cracks in the soil. I do water the plantings, the little border gardens of herbs, roses and marigolds. But a garden hose is no substitute for rain. With rain, the heavens seem to open. Clouds gather around, and they release their burden of water upon the earth. And she will drink deep in times of such drought. The water will simply vanish into the soil, unless, of course, the ground has grown too hard.

Those of us who grew up near farms or rivers know what happens when the ground is hardened by drought. The earth, in spite of her deep need for the rain, cannot absorb what is given. The heavens open. Rain comes. But it simply bounces off the hardened clay and topsoil. The water will run down gullies and streams into the rivers and out to the sea. The drought continues in the midst of a flood. Disaster upon disaster.

Sometimes our spirits have this same character. Our lives are dry. There is a drought of one kind or another…of love, affection, or liberty. There are times when we welcome the rain, welcome healing and nurture from God and others. Our spirits thrive again. There are also times when bitterness and cynicism can set in. The things that wound us are too great. The spiritual drought becomes extreme and it seems nothing can quench our thirst for God and for healing. Grace, like the rain, simply runs off the surface. Our hearts, as the scriptures say, have become hard in these moments.

Strangely perhaps, this is when we need to pray most. This is when we need admit our own powerlessness, our bitterness, and our cynicism to ourselves and to God. We have to hold it out and ask God to take it away from us. The injury, the hurt that has caused such bitterness is simply more than we can bear.

And, for a while, our prayer will seem to have no effect. We will still sense abandonment, an absence of God. But this will pass. Our bitterness and cynicism will pass as our hearts and souls finally soak in some of God’s grace. This is gradual…and often difficult. It requires rigorous honesty on our part. We will see ourselves in new ways. Our lives will become reordered. We will change.

Such drought brings a change to the land. Things that once grew in fertile soil no longer grow. Floods carve out new riverbeds. But new life can come. New life will grow amidst the remnants of the old. God’s grace does not undo what has harmed us. It is not magic. Instead, God’s grace and healing transform us through these droughts. This is often where we experience the greatest transformation.

I am waiting for the rain. The disembodied experts on the radio tell me that today the rain will come. And I sit here, among the cracked soil and withered trees, waiting for the rain. I pray to God that I will be ready for grace when it comes.

May our hearts never grow hard. May we know and receive God’s grace when it comes. And when we cannot, may God give us strength to change.

Posted by tripp at June 21, 2007 10:13 AM