This beautiful lyric (today's title) comes from a Lullabye for a Stormy Night by Vienna Teng. You will be hearing much more about this beautiful singer/songwriter in coming days, but in the meantime you can visit her website by clicking the title.I can hardly explain what came over me. It was last Wednesday night; I was in the church working on a castle set for a drama series we've put together for May. Around 1:00 a.m. it started pouring down rain outside and I was overcome with the idea to go outside and lay down in the rain.
Now I have played in the rain. I have worked in the rain. I have walked and run from place to place in the rain. I have even slept with my window open in the rain so a light mist blew in on the edge of my bed; dampening my covers and face. I had no urge to repeat any of these experiences. I had an urge to go outside and lay in the rain.
There was work to do and it was already late. I wondered what people would think if they saw their youth minister laying in the rain in front of church; in fact I came up with a billion reasons why I shouldn't act on this urge. And so as the rain subsided forty minutes later I remained dry.
That's when I began to regret not acting upon my inner nudgings. So I tossed around the experience in my head while I worked, vowing to not miss such a chance again.
At 3:00 a.m. I was almost finished with my project and the rain opened up another powerful shower. I didn't hesitate. I slipped off my shoes and socks, polo shirt, and glasses. I unpacked my pockets of phone, keys, cash, and evidence of the day and left them in a pile inside the door. I slid open the door of the church, stood under the arch still dry, and then stepped slowly into the cool rain.
I found a spot about fifteen feet in front of the church on the sidewalk after trying one about ten feet in front first and deciding it was too bright. I started sitting, already soaked, and then layed out to soak up the rain. I stretched my arms out on either side of me and stretched my feet out straight and closed my eyes.
There is a lot one can learn in a storm with his eyes closed. I was aware of my surroundings; lightning flashed about ten miles away, I knew that by counting and waiting for the thunder. At first I opened my eyes every fifteen seconds just to make sure no animals were sneaking up on me and no one had showed up in the parking lot wondering what the mass was laying on the patio on front of church.
My thoughts were incredible; so telling and so random. I had a long thought about what would happen if the Houston Police Department saw me and came to investigate. I had an even longer thought about how amazing the whole physicality of rain was; water comes from the sky and falls upon every part of the earth without discrimination. Ofcourse at some point I thought about baptism, that is expected, but I also thought about child birth, perspiration, the movie Cast Away, making love on a car in the rain, making love inside during the rain, songs about rain (there are some really great ones), the song Steve and Nathaniel and I wrote once about rain that we never did anything with, sitting in front of my house in Evansville with Teresa, my Honeybrown days and Killian's Irish Red nights that seem so far away, playing football in the rain, playing football in the snow, wondering when I'll ever see snow again.
I spent about forty-five minutes laying in the rain. Every part of me was soaked through by the time I came inside and found a blanket to wrap myself in for the drive home. I work in a church. I spend a lot of time in a church. Last week I spent over sixty hours at my church and laying in the rain in front of it was the most spiritual thing I have done in many months.
Perhaps, there is some lesson I could extrapolate from my experience. Perhaps I am to make some determination for myself and for all that such heeding of urges or focusing on nature is good for our souls. Maybe I am supposed to take this experience and explicate it like the end of a Jerry Springer episode when he tries to make meaning from chaos and individualism ran amok; here I am to do the same for beauty and understanding connectedness. I would much rather we all try to make sense of things in time.
For now my night in the rain has garnered three expressions; two artistic and one confessional. I penned some lyrics on the serious side of things that you all might see some other time, you are reading my diary on the event, and I was asked yet again to write some poetry for a friend. I used this experience as my motivation. He said it needed to be funny. I was just being honest about a single perspective of my night. Here is my poetic retelling:
Wet T-Shirt Contest
By J.D. RoseI’d done this sort of thing a lot when I was young
When I’d had urges to do things wild and reckless, and fun,
But now I am all grown up…or getting there.
I wear a watch, I tithe, I’ve lost most of my hair.
I’m a minister for Christ sakes, Pete sakes, God’s sake
And here I was an irrational decision about to make,
Or was I?
I was in the sanctuary;
It was late, or early depending upon which member you ask,
As I am accustomed to I was burning the midnight oil on a task
Of great importance to the service Sunday morning,
When all of a sudden outside, it started pouring.
It was a steady rain, the kind Houston can get spontaneously
And as it fell an unusual thought washed over me;
“Run into the rain, play in it, lay down in it, now.”
There is a part of a man that never grows up, and somehow
At this late hour that was the part of me calling all the shots
And he was overwhelmingly in favor of doing what I thought
Might not be the best choice for 3am at church for the youth pastor.
But as I tried to form a rebuttal he kept undressing me faster and faster,
Emptying my pockets, taking the glasses from my face, socks and shoes from my feet,
And piling them in the vestibule with keys and money and receipts.
He pulled me into the rain slowly, for I was stronger than I once was,
But soon a cold heavy sheeted rain was showering both of us.
At first he sat me down and I plopped like Buddha into a meditation pose,
Complete with beer belly and smile, for I’ve nearly always had both,
But the center of the patio was too bright,
Lights cast powerful beams on the front of church at night,
So I moved to a seated spot on the sidewalk slightly inclined;
Water was flowing past my feet in a stream on either side.
I was in charge again and surprised to find
That heading inside wasn’t on my mind,
But rather laying on the sidewalk
Letting each drop hit my face and body as I closed my eyes.
And down I went, laying arms outstretched on my back on the patio in front of church,
Baptizing myself, soaking through a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt.
It occurred to me that the HPD might drive past and wonder what this might be;
A man on his back in the rain posed liked Jesus horizontally.
And I’d stand to explain, give them my name, show ID, and my set of church keys,
All the while they’d be looking at my soaked wet t,
Wondering “Who the hell does this anyway on a whim at 3 in the morning
In front of a church, lit up, at night, when it’s storming?”
I lay in the water for a half hour at least,
Soaked through from bare head to bare feet,
Delighted and inspired at the beauty of the shower;
Aware of God’s subtlety, aware of God’s power,
Aware of the moments God grants us and the urges he ordains.
It’s almost always a choice between staying dry and playing in the rain.
Experience brings us wisdom, but also pause,
For we know that something can always be lost,
But I’m proud there was more ‘play’ in my heart that night than ‘hold on’.
And I will miss wet t-shirts at my church when they’re gone.
