Grace Is Raining All Around

It was a little after noon on a sticky summer day – the leaden sky beyond the open stained glass windows pressed down upon the vaulted roof. In the dim light, the priest lifted up the white Host, high above the altar, his voice suddenly swallowed by a violent downpour. Through the windows, the noon day had turned to dusk. Situated in the center of the city, St. Patrick’s was almost entirely surrounded by concrete and cars and on that day, the sound of rain hitting the roofs and pavement was deafening!

No longer able to hear the words of Consecration, I marveled at the sheer power of the rain, coinciding so perfectly with the mystery of God becoming my Food and my Drink at the exact moment the skies let loose.  God, it seemed, was pouring His grace upon us all in that Church, at that instant. But not only that, He was pouring it on both the good and the bad, wherever Mass was being said throughout the whole wide world. The earth was being washed by this torrent of love unleashed and yet, I couldn’t help wonder, why was I , why were we, not holier?

In my imagination, I heard Grace running down spouts, along the gutters, into the drains. It was splashing beneath tires, drenching unseeing souls sadly oblivious to its power to save them. Was it truly wasted? As I reflected on this, a little verse popped into my head:

Grace is raining all around

Cup your hands and drink it down

Drink it down – every drop

Pouring from His wounded side

Break my heart – open wide

Cup your hands and drink it down

Wash me with your crystal blood

Shimmering, healing, cleansing, flood

Drink it, drink it, drink it all

Soothing torrents from above

All is free and All is love!

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