The other evening, myself and two of my closest friends from church were sat in their living room. It had been a tough few days, we were all tired and harried, we’d talked earlier, but now even our conversation had petered out and glumness seemed to be taking precedent. In a sitaution like this, I will usually seek to override the circumstances and make everyone laugh, or begin a conversation about marine life or something… but even I was flummoxed.
Then, disturbing the silence, I heard the sound of rain drumming on the metal steps leading down from the flat above. My first thoughts were frustration, that I would have to walk home in the rain, that even the weather was reflecting our moods, that everything seemed to be stacking up against us.
But then, something childish happened, or maybe it was childlike. Without explanation, without asking them to follow, without saying anything, I got up, opened the back door and jumped out into their small concrete back yard. It was dark and tipping it down, the torrent almost deafeaning.
My two friends followed, allured by the sound of the downpour. They too jumped out of the back door, and splashed into the shallow pool collecting under the door. In a moment we were all careering around the yard, jumping in the puddles, flicking water at each other, splashing and stomping and soaking ourselves. We spun in circles, breathless and shivering but driven by adrenalin, shaking off the damp of our circumstances for the exhilerating chill of the rain.
It was such an encouraging few minutes. After we had got it out of our systems we went back inside and had a cup of tea, but something was different. Our emotions were lifted, by those moments of simple pleasure, by the feeling of rain on our cheeks, by the time spent dancing as if it was just us and the elements.
For me, dancing in the rain was an act of worship. It was a moment of choosing that whatever my circumstances, I was going to enjoy creation, enjoy the place God has put me in for those few moments, enjoy being who he has made me to be. In those moments I wasn’t thinking about everything that weighs heavy on my mind, but the playful love of Creator God, and the delight he has in us, his children.
I was reminded of this in a quote I was sent today, via email:
‘Life isn’t about how to survive the storm, But how to dance in the rain.
It’s all too easy to try and work out why things happen the way they do, or to try and strategise a way through them, but God has been consistently reminding me that there is another option. That in trusting God afresh each day, in embarking on those steps he has ordained for the next 24 hours, I can learn so much about his character, and simply fall more deeply in love with him.
I never want to get caught up in trying to hide from, or survive through, the storm. I want to keep dancing and celebrating in the rain.
