1 07 2012

A few weeks ago my husband and I were invited to an elder’s meeting at our new church so that they could pray over us.  During the opening prayer over Psalm 61, it began to rain.  It was heavy and deafening on the metal roof.

I could hear the men repeating versus from Psalm 61, “Hear my cry O Lord, listen to my prayer.  From the ends of the earth I call out to you, I call as my heart grows faint.  Lead me to a rock that is higher than I.”

My first thoughts were, “God is weeping.  This rain is his tears.  Weeping over this world.  The lost in this world.  The sin in this world.  Me.  My sin.”

There was a short pause in the rain, then it began again with a new intensity.  The prayers continued, “For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against my foe.”

Then I was reminded of the scene in The Lion King toward the end of the movie after Simba defeated Scar and began to climb Pride Rock to take his rightful place as king. 

The rain in that scene was not a sad rain. It was refreshing. It was rejuvenating. It brought new life. It washed away the old, broken, waste of what had been and transformed it into an abundant blessing.

Though we couldn’t hear one another over the rain, the prayers carried on, “Increase the days of the king’s life, his years for many generations.  May he be enthroned in God’s presence forever; appoint your love and faithfulness to protect him.  Then I will ever sing in praise of your name and fulfill my vows day after day.”

Please bring us that rain again, Lord.




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