Today, if you feel as though you’re one of those pleading in a tearless cry, softly signing for relief, remember that your God will come to you as a gentle rain, healing and helping and causing you to grow.
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SHAUNA: This is Shauna on Joni Eareckson Tada: Sharing Hope. Don’t you just love the smells of early summer?
JONI: Ah, yes; nothing smells quite as warm and sweet as a soft rain on freshly mown fields. The fragrance of newly cut green grass is the scent of summer coming, and I love it. I remember when I was a girl growing up on the farm in Maryland, I would climb the fence into the pasture, lie back in that sweet pasture, close my eyes, and listen to the horses nearby, munching at wet grass. You know, the Bible uses this metaphor about fresh cut grass when it speaks of God, coming to his people like rain gently falling on a pasture that’s been freshly cut. Psalm 72:6 says, “May he be like rain falling on a mown field.” What a fascinating picture but think about it – if grass could feel the cut of the blade, it would be awfully sore. How grateful that grass would be for the healing touch of soft rain. And that’s the point. The rain is healing and so God says he will come to his people “Like rain falling on a mown field.”
There is so much in life that feels like a cutting-machine, that feels like a sickle, a lawnmower cutting you to the quick. Your heart is exposed and suddenly sore and needs the healing balm that comes from God. It could be the prayers of a friend; that healing balm could be the word of Scripture that lifts your spirits; it could be an embrace from a loved one, patting you on the back, saying everything’s going to be okay. No matter what we may call that which is healing to us, it is God coming “like rain on a mown field.” And just as beautiful lawns are admired, may the same be true of us; the more cutting, the more rain, the more beautiful we shall be. But it can’t be just one; it has to be both.
When a vine is pruned and bleeding, it does not mean that the vinedresser has gone away. The absence of joy does not mean the absence of God. A vine whose dead branches have been lopped off does not suggest the vinedresser does not care; no, it suggests the opposite. To clarify what I mean, just listen to this poem by Frances Brook; it’s called “God’s Aftermath.”
“The mower’s blade had passed o we see that o’er the summer fields, The grass lay bleeding ‘neath the summer sun; Strong hands swift stored the harvest’s wealthy yields, And left the fields deserted, one by one. Their glory gone, their beauty swept away, Still smarting from the swift, keen cut of death, Their woe the sharp, short work of one brief day, That dawned with sunshine in its balmy breath. Methought they pleaded to the gentle sky, That smiled above bending o’er their grief, A voiceless pleading in a tearless cry, A soundless sob soft sighing for relief.
And heaven heard the fervor of their call, And sent them healing balm at eventide, Sweet raindrops breathing blessing in their fall, And weeping gently o’er their wounded pride. Thus shall he come as rain on new-mown grass, And withered hopes spring up to grace his path, New life be born where’er his footsteps pass, And tender grass spring forth a fresh.” Beautiful poem.
SHAUNA: And friend, today, if you feel as though you’ve been cut to the quick; if you are one of those pleading in a tearless cry, softly signing for relief, remember, your God will come to you as a gentle rain, healing and helping and causing you to grow. And if you’d like a copy of this poem, you can download it at joniradio.org for free. Go there today and grab a copy of this beautiful poem for yourself and your friends. Remember, that’s joniradio.org!
© Joni and Friends