Thoughts on a rainy night

The rain patta-patta-patta-pattas insistently on the shed roof. Tens of thousands of tiny drops explode in quick succession on a kamikaze mission. They batter at my brain, one pin-pointed ‘pat’ at a time, demanding my attention and soothing my scattered thoughts - an army of taps and pats pricking my mind and relieving its pressure. 

Patta-patta-patta-patta. The sound washes louder and softer. 

I want to sit here all night listening to the rain. It demands my attention, but only to calm me. It commands my concentration, but only to free me from my own darting and distracting thoughts. Attend to this. Here. Now. And let those other worries flow away. God’s hands hold them. God sends the rain, and allows me to listen. Listen. 

Tomorrow morning I will be under another roof. A school building, the meeting place for our church. Other demands engage my attention. A child pulling at my sleeve and climbing into my lap. A teenager’s whispered question. The cares and burdens of the family of God sitting around me, which weigh on my heart too. 

But as we sit, the words of God are read. They prick and tap at our hearts. The words of God are sung, and the truths we sing are like rain that falls and soaks into the dry ground. We pray - with God’s words - and our souls are refreshed. 

God calls us to worship him. He demands our attention, but only to bring us peace. He commands our concentration, but only to free us from ourselves. His demands are peace. His commands are freedom. Attend to this. Here. Now. And let those other worries flow away. God’s hands hold them. God sends his word, and allows us to listen. Listen. 

‘May my teaching drop as the rain,
my speech distill as the dew,
like gentle rain upon the tender grass,
and like showers upon the herb.’

Deuteronomy 32:2

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