"I Wanna Know...Have You Ever Seen The Rain?"

Fond memories of that Joan Jett song from yesteryear...before my time.

But in any case, amidst the snow and ice and exemplifies winter here in Western Pennsylvania, it's hard to believe that a mere week ago, it was 50 degree with light rain showers. Not to say I'm not a fan of the snow, for indeed I am. How else would we make good use of cafeterian trays on an inviting slope near the soccer field, circa midnight, the week of final exams?....Not that I would know. Besides, sitting here in the Religion Suite of the Hall of Arts and Letters, looking down across campus from my gargoyle-like perch on the third floor, the freshly fallen snow on our colonial/neo-gothic campus is quite picturesque.



In any case, during the thaw last week, I was walking out of Fit/Well on either a Tuesday or Thursday morning at roughly 8:35 AM, having just finished running/jogging/walking with moderate intensity for the last 20 minutes (something I'm not prone to do otherwise, so you can imagine the lack of physical fitness coming to bite me in the butt, and oddly enough it sounds like the laugh of cross country runners who scoff at the notion of running for a mere 20 minutes. For that, I salute you.



Walking out of the Physical Learning Center, hot and uncomfortable, I was greeted with an onslaught of falling rain drops. I typically hate to get wet, for that means one has to wait (I means seriously, waiting! That means not getting or having what you want or a situation you desire immediately. Ludacrist!) to get dry. But today was telling, poetically, humbly, and practically.

In my mind, the rain was symbolic of the grace of God, or at least the actions of God. In the past, I rued the rain, for when I was prim, proper, and spiffed up for the day, on my own accord, the rain made me unkempt, disgruntled, and uncomfortable. Likewise, on days that I felt I was spiritually prepped, prepared by what I'd done, and ready to face the day, God would enact a loving discipline, an event or occurance to get my attention, that would make me uncomfortable. And I would resist and resent, whether I realized it was Heaven-sent or not.

And yet, despite my rebellion and sinful ingratitude for a Father who corrects out of love that I might not do harm to myself (as all good fathers do), in spite of my attitude, God sends down an action of grace and of paternal love to a child he adores. He sent rain when I was uncomfortable, to refresh me. The same way a parent will perhaps give a simple candy bar to a child, although they've misbehaved, (and perhaps that action will guilt them), they offer this gift as a reminder of love.

In spite of my selfish tendencies, my Father sends me rain: grace, love, and compassion because He loves me. He sends me loving acts not because of what I've done, He loves me initially not because of what I've done. The Love we, the church, experience is truly of grace from beginning to end--stemming entirely from the benevolent nature of God and completely lacking us in any capacity.

How precious did that grace appear, the hour I first believed.