I stretched out my arms, as though I was welcoming the raindrops which were pounding on my body like tiny notes of a powerful symphony.
If anybody was watching, he might have thought I was crazy, but I didn’t care. I felt an exhilarating connection with Nature in that moment. I welcomed the rain. I welcomed the energy in the storm. And in that brief moment of touching God, I felt love and warmth and goodness.
I had eaten at a restaurant inside a store Wednesday evening. When it was time for me to leave, a driving rainstorm had started outside. There was hardly anybody left in the store. Everyone else seemed to have headed home in anticipation of the storm. As I walked slowly into the rain, I felt as though I was alone on Nature’s stage.
My heart swelled with warmth and love. Suddenly, without any intention or forethought, I was joyfully speaking words of love to someone who was not there to hear my words.
I felt like a joyful child as I made that long walk to my car. I didn’t hurry, because I didn’t want this moment to end. It felt special and holy, more like worship than most church services I’ve attended.
I felt as though something in my spirit transcended my body for that minute or two. I didn’t care that I was getting soaked. I felt as though my spirit stretched out to become something monumentally huge — stretching miles to merge with this powerful storm — and for just a moment, I knew once again what it felt like to know the majesty of God.
This wasn’t a rational thought. It wasn’t just an emotion. It was purely an experience of knowing that I was connected to something far bigger than myself.
And in the ecstasy of this experience, I kept returning to an expression of love. I have no idea why. I just needed to express in words something which was overflowing like waves and waves of liquid love pouring out of my soul.
I experienced it as warmth and light and colors. It was abstract, but the colors were full of intense blue and golden light and a pale pink, along with hints of crimson in the accents. I felt the colors and the light — and they were alive. If I had been able to hold onto this powerful experience for long enough, there was someone who would have emerged in the flesh.
In that moment, I knew without any question that love comes from somewhere other than my wants or needs or hopes or lusts or any such thing. Real love comes from somewhere else — if it comes at all — and we ignore that love at our spirit’s peril.
Love is not our choice.
I can’t fully explain what I experienced. I made some photos once I got to the car to try to capture the spirit of what had happened, but I couldn’t find an image powerful enough. I’ve included a couple of those here.
All I know is that I had a beautiful and powerful experience of God. I have no idea why. I didn’t see it coming. I couldn’t recreate it if I tried.
He was in the wind and the rain and the light and the colors.
And even the briefest of brushes with this all-powerful Creator leaves no doubt where genuine love always comes from.