God, it’s raining. Again. As if You didn’t already know that. As if You didn’t already know that, honestly, we are over it. Tempers are fraying. Even the most good-natured among us would like, if I may be so bold, some good nature. Meaning, some good weather to be out in nature! And the folks who have worked hard all year long, 51 weeks, for one week to be here, just to try to relax a little before going back to their daily grind, don’t their needs matter?
In light of major disasters, like past hurricanes or present wildfires or famine or civil war or or or, I realize this sounds petty: God, it’s raining. But if I have learned anything at all about You, it is that I can talk to You about anything at all. So what I want to talk to You about now is keeping a sunny disposition when the weather is anything but. I keep slugging down coffee and keep feeling sluggish. The sun broke through for a few minutes this morning, and the rain abated long enough for me to take packages to the shipper. And I am grateful for every little respite, I am. But am I wrong to want more than a little respite? And not just for me, but for our visitors too? Am I wrong to talk to You about such a petty little thing as rain?
What did I talk about when I was with you? Crops and harvest. Housekeeping and lost coins and wandering sheep. Workers and wages. Rifts between brothers. In short, all the stuff that made up daily life of that time–and yours. And what did I scold? Hypocrisy. Greed. Unfairness. Pride and arrogance. I heard your heart when you told that visitor, who said to you, but I guess rain is good for business, that you would rather the sun shine and folks choose to shop than come in because they have so little else to do.
God, I just can’t help it. I keep thinking how I would feel, if this was my vacation. As I said earlier, it’s hard enough living here and missing being outside!
So what exactly are you asking?
I guess I am asking what I always am asking, which is for mercy. For compassion. For folks’ needs to matter, and that they can enjoy a vacation, a rest. You talked about rest, too, Lord. About our need for it. Goodness knows You have talked to me often enough about it!
You have let your vision become too narrow and dark again, little one. You have–without realizing it–been listening to the poisonous thoughts of those who disbelieve I Am involved in your world. You have let the world’s sorrows choke out your joy. What did I declare? That I had come that you might have fullness of joy, have abundant life! There are those who do not believe or receive those words as true at all. There are others who transport those words into a future heavenly reality and resign themselves to a trudging existence of drudgery here, all the while imagining some future reward as incentive to keep plodding on. But I did not ask any of you to keep plodding on. I did not say you would never know sorrow or trouble, but I also promised My Presence and I promised plenty of blessing for this life. Otherwise, why would I have given you this life? This earth? This universe? Just to test you? I already know you. Just to prove to you your weakness? What good is that? What kind of Parent would devise tests just to show up his own children? That is abuse, not parental love.
It is true your earth, the earth I envisioned in creation, is way out of balance. And it is true that imbalance is creating consequences I never intended and most humans could never foresee. But that does not mean I Am not still able to recreate and renew.
And right then, bam! No warning! The power goes out, the computer shuts off, my backup power supply starts squealing…
And what did you do?
Ultimately I hit the reset button.
Ah, yes, the reset button. And what was I just saying to you, when the power went off?
That I should sing. That You wanted to sing over me, sing the rainbow over me. All the colors.
Yes, you need all My colors. Your world does.
So how do You think we should deal with disappointments, God? I am not even talking real tragedies. I am talking about disappointments, the kind that are like a nor’easter, that wear down the spirit with steady relentless pounding. The kind that erode our joy, as You said. How are we supposed to react, other than to suck it up and keep on plodding?
What happens when you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths? What do you feel?
Calmer. Tired, but calmer. And, unexpectedly, happier.
Yes, I Am singing over you with Joy. I Am singing over you with Peace.
God, it is still raining. But I feel better.
You see? A few minutes, deliberately in My Presence, makes all the difference. Now you can gain a little perspective, a little fortitude, a little energy. Now you will be more ready for the sun when it comes.
Thank You, God.
Don’t go.
Huh?
Don’t go. I have not finished singing. I still have Abundance and Laughter and Soul-Ease to sing over you. I still have open doors and open fields and open skies to sing over you. Don’t go. Sit, close your eyes, lift up your head and breathe. Let Me Sing.