When the Rain Comes

In church this weekend, we heard the story of Samuel's calling, the one in which the boy went chasing into his mentor Eli's bedroom three times in the night to ask what he wanted before it occurred to Eli that someone else was calling his young protege. At last, Samuel stayed in his room to listen to what God had to say--and God, revealing the importance Samuel would hold in the world, told him that "none of his words would ever fall to the ground."

In his sermon, our pastor explained this idea of words "falling to the ground"--how, in ancient times, words were considered physical things. People would duck to avoid a curse "hitting" them, and they would face a speaker full-on to receive the entire impact of a blessing. It was an engaging mental image, especially when he went on to say that God's own words NEVER miss their mark.

As one constantly praying for direction and guidance, I couldn't help but picture God up on his heavenly throne, speaking down at me, the words falling from his mouth like clouds and drifting earthward--and me running around like a lunatic, dodging the precipitation for which I had asked. In my efforts to figure it all out myself, where I'm going and what I'm meant to do, I don't even notice that I'm dripping with God's guidance. Or, when it occurs to me that I'm soaking wet, I try to towel off so as not to be uncomfortable in pursuing the path I'VE chosen.

Next time it starts raining, I hope I'll toss my umbrella aside, stand there exposed, and tilt my chin heavenward to drink it all in.