Reflections by the Pond
May 7, 2003

Heavenly Rains

For I will pour out water on the thirsty land
And streams on the dry ground;
I will pour out My Spirit on your offspring
And My blessing on your descendants.
And they will spring up among the grass
Like poplars by streams of water.
Isaiah 44:3-4 nasbu

I have not yet misplaced the memory of television weather reports in southern California. After twelve years back in the bosom of my heritage--back in the U.S. heartland, disdainfully referenced by those on either of the coasts as little more than "fly-over country"--I can still remember the weatherman's voice tinged with sheer horror at the prospect of any real weather occurring. If the forecast were for the local area, the report would be presented with alarm and urgency: "Batten down the hatches! Gather your loved ones and flee to higher ground! It's going to r-a-i-n!!" But if the inclement forecast were for some other area of the country--say, the Midwest--the weatherman would deliver the news with a smug sniff: "Pity those poor fools, suffering several inches of snow while we Favored Ones enjoy our sunny seventy-five degrees. [sniff]"

But in the "sunny seventy-five degrees" of southern California's dry Mediterranean climate, rain was just duplicated by copious man-made watering. One way or another water is essential to life, and if the heavens don't supply it, then man must--if, that is, there is to be anything green in the immediate vicinity.

Here in "fly-over country" [sniff], the heavens usually take care of that for us. Domestic greenery, and thousands of acres of commercial crops, are not sprinkled, irrigated, sprayed or hosed, but are well-watered from above. Oh, sure, we have our dry years; there are those occasions when stingy rains must be supplemented by some timely watering of the garden or lawn. But for the most part this is still a land of four seasons--each bringing with it both benefits and liabilities. Spring and summer rains, and lush foliage, usually go hand in hand with cloying humidity: one may love the one, but loathe the other.

Sunday last was a wet and drippy spring day. After morning worship I could have taken the Jeep to retrieve the Sunday paper from the mailbox, but opted, instead, for rain slicker and boots. Even mid-day, the sky was dark, black clouds roiling overhead, disgorging first gentle drips, then bucket-loads of rain. I experienced both on my way down the drive, out to the gravel road to fetch the paper. But in spite of the ominous sky, all around me was burgeoning life: the young deer pranced about, exulting in the refreshing shower; the myriad birds with their jumbled Sunday anthem serenaded my every step; the air was tinged with the gentle sweetness of lilac and fruit tree blossoms; and at every turn greening trees, bushes and grass were transforming the dull palette of winter back over to the luxuriant one of spring.

Only heavenly spring rains could have created such a bountiful feast for the eyes and ears.

And only heavenly rains can bring fresh vitality to a life dulled by the drying, withering effect of dwelling on this temporal plane. Life here can be, perhaps, comfortable and warm, devoid of unpleasant surprise or inconvenience. But it can also be monotonous, brittle and dry, the air desiccated and thin. Into such a bland existence can come the freshening of heavenly rains: the Spirit of God come down to revive and restore that which has dried up. And then what was dead or dying is once again green, bursting with new vitality.

And it is spring again.

"I will make them and the places around My hill a blessing. And I will cause showers to come down in their season; they will be showers of blessing." Ezekiel 34:26 nasbu

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Reflections file: pond0370.txt