There shall be showers of blessing;
Showers of blessing we need.
Mercy drops ’round us are falling,
But for the showers we plead.
I sang this old gospel song on a recent visit to Iowa, and it surely spoke a tantalizing hope to the drought-weary farmers in the congregation. By that August Sunday any showers that might come were likely too late to make much difference in this season’s crops. But they would, if they were sufficient, give hope for next year. In drought, a few drops of rain evaporate in the dust they stir up; what’s needed for a blessing are steady, gentle showers.
The song and its refrain have come into my mind at unexpected moments ever since. And I’ve wondered about the yearning for spiritual showers, which is the kind of showers the song is really about.
A shower of the spirit can wash away sin and guilt, of course; it can signal the arrival of new possibilities. But it can also, if it comes "too much-too fast" cloud truth about ourselves, make us feel superior to others, or justify our ongoing wrong-headedness. A shower can impair our vision, as anyone who has driven into a sudden thunderstorm knows. I am cautious around spiritual showers.
I do think sometimes I need to be more aware of and grateful for the drops of mercy - the forgiveness, the love, the peace, the justice - that fall around me every day. I need to reach out my hand or stick out my tongue and feel and taste the smaller mercies that are all around me, and worry less about the supposedly greater blessings that are not. I might learn that a few well-placed and gratefully-received mercy drops are all I need...and all I need to offer to others. Just learning that could be blessing enough.
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