When It Rains

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I am fond of rain. I enjoy the sound of water hitting my rooftop. I feel particularly calm while watching heavy water pouring down my window, wind uncontrollably crashing on my outside walls. At times the invitation to go in and dance with it overcomes me, I succumb.

To me, a violent rainy scene is God saying that’s how I love you. I see His love like a storm taking over a place almost without warning and beyond anyone’s control. Riddled with passion and pursuing His children, His love is vehement. He is, surely, not Someone I would call safe. And yes, I love that about Him.

I woke up this morning to raging rain and wind outside, and I knew it was God showing off His love — His grace.

I smiled.

As I listened to what was happening beyond my walls, I felt an indescribable gratitude in my heart. In a flash, I saw my life sublimely unfold in my mind, seeing how even the tiniest of details have come into perfect play. I could have not imagined it better than He had written it. God has, once again, stolen my heart and filled it to overflowing with love. With grace.

I am reminded.

Jesus is love. Jesus is grace.

Jason once said to me that mercy is not getting from God what you deserve; grace is getting from God what you don’t deserve.

Mine is a story of grace. I have been getting what I don’t deserve.

Countless times I have messed it up. Countless times He has stood up for me and fought for me almost to the point of absurdity. Countless times He has given me accomplishments and opportunities particularly when I deserve them the least.

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Once a very scientific, intelligent man, after days of observing the classes I teach, asked how they changed from being classes inclined to fights and violence to classes where not only learning takes place but there is tangible evidence of trust and respect thriving among students and myself. He inquired, “So, did you do something different?” I paused and thought for at least a minute realizing that I didn’t really do anything different except that I have prayed so hard for a chance to really teach. People have also interceded in prayer for me and my classes. I answered him with much excitement, grasping at that moment the truth of what had happened in my classes and recognizing that it was all Him, “God gave this to me!” He asked again not really comprehending what I had exclaimed. But all I could really say was, “This is God.” I had no other explanation.

He gave me grace to teach. He gave me grace so students would be ready to learn from me and from each other. He gave me grace so trust and respect could flourish in my classes.

I knew, then, God’s grace was all I had (and needed) to move forward with my teaching, with my life.

I know, now, God’s grace is all I have that will keep me going no matter the circumstances.

When grace is all you have, you tie it around your neck and bind it to yourself. You do everything you can to hold on to it. When grace is all you have, at the risk of being called greedy, you ask for more. You can never have enough. For in grace, in Jesus, you will find that you have more freedom in becoming who you truly are than when you are not in it.

So I ask for more.

Ah, that glorious sound of heavy rain falling prompts me to think of Him. Of His love. Of His grace.