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How do you call the rain?

I was at the door, sort of mumuring something and in deep concentration. It was a very hot afternoon and my sister kinda suspected I’m up to something weird again. I told her I’m praying for rain, and I invited her to pray for the same. She laughed and said that if she would be praying for something, she’d pray for something else, not for something as hard as that. She said it’s like we’d already be asking for a miracle, for it was indeed very hot, and there was not even a cloud in sight.In my heart though, I thought it wouldn’t really be that impossible. Rain is a very natural phenomena, and it’s been known to rain even in the middle of a hot summer day. It’s not like walking over water or multiplying bread to feed thousands. Rain can come and go anytime, so why can’t it be summoned in prayer? For the record, Jesus even made the storm stop and taught his disciples the meaning of faith. He taught us that we can do things greater than the miracles He did. And if He can command the storm to stop, why can’t we be able to summon a little bit of rain?

I even remember the time when I asked for a single rose and God gave me hundreds of flowers beyond my imagination! Of course some would say that would clearly be a different story. God could have easily led me to those flowers, whereas asking for rain is a very direct and immediate request, summoning something beyond the ability of man to create.

But then again, what have I got to lose? If it doesn’t rain, I get to enjoy my icecream. But if it does, everyone in the neighorhood gets to enjoy the cooler weather and be able to drink their afternoon coffee.

And so I prayed. I closed my eyes and asked for rain. I smiled as though what I’m asking for is there. I imagined the cooler weather we’d all be enjoying. I imagined enjoying my cup of coffee.

I opened my eyes with a smile upon my face and then I looked outside. The sun is shining as hot as ever, no sign of rain for me. But then I know I’m not asking for magic; I’m praying, and praying takes perfect timing to happen.

I sat and relaxed, and tried to enjoy the hot day. A little while more, I looked outside and saw a small sign of hope. There are dark clouds in the east, and if they can only move towards us, it just might rain after all.

I got in the house again and finished some chores. Still hot. After a little while more, I looked again where the dark clouds were. And they’re gone! It was no longer dark in the east. So much for my prayer.

But just then, I realized something. If the clouds I saw were no longer there, then maybe those clouds have moved! And true enough, dark clouds were already overhead, ready to pour down the rain I have prayed for.

Seconds later I felt tiny raindrops falling upon my face. What a happy feeling that had been! It wasn’t a strong rain, only a short trickle. And yet I know in my heart what I have just witnessed. That afternoon, a miracle had come true. I felt its tiny hands blessing my face and refreshing my parched and thirsty heart.

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Life

When is Being Safe the Most Dangerous Place You Can Be?

What’s wrong with being lukewarm? Isn’t being somewhere in the middle the right place to be? The safest place to be? I mean, who would ever complain of people trudging silently and patiently along, never bothering anyone? Why did the Bible deem it better to be cold instead of being lukewarm? Is being bad better than being not good enough?

I used to ponder about this when I was a lot younger, because I just couldn’t believe how being lukewarm can be very much like a sin for one to be reprimanded for. It was only later though that I realized the true gravity of the condition of people being referred to as such.

What is being lukewarm anyway? To begin with, we should make a clear distinction between being lukewarm and being average. Being lukewarm does not refer to one’s status or capacity in life, but in one’s state of inner consciousness and aliveness in spirit.

Being lukewarm is a state of passivity, of being totally crippled to move either forward or backward, of being stuck and not having the least desire or discontent that would prompt him to change and grow and really live. Being lukewarm is being oblivious to what is happening around him as he isn’t even aware of any activity happening within himself. He has reached a state of living where he can get by, and where he has been able to achieve enough that he is afraid of losing what little he has, and hence unable to risk anything to gain that which could really make him happy.

Truly it would be better if the person is in a worse condition. By then, he would have risked everything believing that he has really nothing to lose and everything to gain. It would have been better if he were miserable and in pain. He would have sought the cause of his troubles and remedied them, arriving nearer to his healing and salvation.

But for a man who doesn’t even want to move from where he’s always been, who is too comfortable to know he isn’t really happy, who is afraid to risk dying so he can find new life, for such a lukewarm spirit, what is it that can save him and bring him out of the comfortable grave he has made for himself? What can prompt him to laugh like he’s never laughed before? What can prompt him to weep as he has never wept? What can prompt him to love and find the real meaning to the life he so desires to save but unknowingly loses the more each time he chooses to be right in the middle and safe?

When It Is Too Painful To Weep

A widow for fifteen years.  She alone raised her six children by selling bottles she scavenged from the neighborhood.   She has no social security, no dayoff, definitely no overtime pay.  The day she misses work is the day her family starves.  She cannot succumb to weakness.   She cannot allow her tears to fall.  Because if she did, she may not be able to hold them back anyore.  She’d keep on crying with no one to dry her tears away.

 

A child of ten years.  Eldest of four children.  Breadwinner of his siblings, and of a bedridden mother.   He begs at the streets for a living and sometimes pickpockets with his gang.  Playing tough is the only rule he knows, it is the only way he has survived.   Crying is for whimps and for those whose only remaining wish is to die.

 

How tough must you be to live?  How long can you hold back the pain that is gnawing at your heart?   When will it be okey to let go of your tears and cry?

 

Sadly for many people, the time has not yet come.  It isn’t safe yet.  There isn’t anybody yet who can see them through when they finally feel their feelings and face the hurts they’ve been carrying all this time.

 

Sadly for many people, there are more people around them who are far quicker in judging them than in understanding their plight and reaching out a helping hand.

 

And many times, the helping hand they really need is not a few spare coins or a lonely piece of bread. These things may help them for the day or for the next meal, but these will never be enough.

 

You may then say, “I’ll give them more. I’ll give them a small capital to start a decent livelihood.”  But even that is not enough, my friend.  It isn’t enough if you desire to see tears of gladness welling up from their eyes.  So boast not of your gift and judge them not if you can’t see outright the gratitude and joy you’re looking for.

 

Give them time.  Because great as your gift seems to be, the happiness it should have brought cannot be felt until it’s been allowed to enter into their hearts.

 

For a heart that could not weep is a heart that has been shut, and a heart that has been closed could not let happiness in as well.

 

Slowly and gently one must knock, slowly and gently must a heart be opened.  The heart must know that it is safe atlast to trust, safe enough to reveal   its many sorrows and be understood. 

 

And when the heart has wept with all the tears it can possibly give out, when the pain has been faced and the burdens laid down, only then shall it be able to know happiness, only then can it be able to cry out at last with tears of real joy.

The Small Seed

Let a seed
be buried deep down into the ground
deep down where there is nothing
but darkness
and the smallness of the seed,
let it wait
let it face its greatest fears
for only in being buried
can it sprout forth with new life
only in the truth of its smallness
can it realize its power
to grow
to bear fruit
and to reach the highest heavens

An Open Door

At the end of our tears, and of all our broken dreams, the Lord remains an open door, the One who awaits us in the morning to find a new day of hope and of peace.