I love rain.
When i was younger I used to strip down to my boxer shorts and go jump on our trampoline. You would feel every drop on your skin and after a few minutes you would be soaked. If I wasn’t jumping up and down i would be freezing. Every jump would send water flying in all directions off the trampoline mat. I love that feeling of being soaked without a care.
I love those moments you’re laying in a tent in the middle of a forest and it begins to pour down huge droplets. The sounds, the coziness, the waking up the morning after and being oddly moist around the edges.
I love swimming in the rain when the drops complement being immersed in water. Or the time me and 15 other men rafted down a river and then because of some rapids we had to get out and run through strange fields and then it began raining. Or those times as a kid you would put on gum boots and go to town on all the puddles.
I love the soft rain, i love the hard rain, i love thunder and lightning, and the sound of rain on metal roofs. I love when your hair is plastered to your head and face.
One of my favourite moments of sport was when my team was a goal down with twenty minutes to go and it began storming. The water fueled our adrenaline and then our victory.
God wants to be our overwhelm. What we are soaked in. His rain is comfort, growth, love, belonging.
But how often do we joyfully jump on the trampoline in our boxers and let God soak us to the skin whilst keeping us warm?
When do we go camping just to hear him and be with him? Or let him fuel our hockey victories?
Lately I’ve been crocheting a lot and seeing if God wants to hang out when i do that. He does.
Or i’ll go and take photos of houses whilst listening to hardcore music. He likes hanging out then too.
When we know God.
When we know who we are.
When we know where we are.
Justified by faith – knowing that we know – being brought back to just-as we were. Redeemed and rescued.
Walk in the garden of Eden.