I love waterfalls.

Whether they are just a few feet high, or towering rushes of water dropping hundreds of feet, their beauty and power have always caught my eye and captivated my imagination.

I’ve only stood under a waterfall once and it was exhilarating – and a painful. Exhilarating because, you know, I was standing under a waterfall! And painful because the water was falling from several feet above my head and the force of it hurt as it hit my skin.

Recently I’ve been reflecting a lot on this image of standing under a waterfall and how it reminds me of standing under the flow of God’s abundant grace. When this image first came to me several years ago, it was in a celebratory vision—face upturned to heaven and joyous laughter spilling over. This vision came as I was praying for a friend who was in the middle of a difficult life transition and the promise seemed to be that she was soon to receive an outpouring of grace and blessing. The feeling was one of relief and being washed and cleansed and healed and delivered – like dancing in a gentle waterfall with sun sparkly reflections echoing promise and abundance.

Fast forward a handful of years and this image still sticks with me but the added idea of the painful parts of standing right under the waterfall’s force have added a new dimension to my thinking about this idea of waterfalls of grace. It seems to me that grace can sometimes be “painful.” Not painful like broken limbs or bankruptcy. But painful like in soul-searing acceptance of a terminal cancer diagnosis for a parent, or an awakening to the correcting discipline of the Holy Spirit when He moves in our hearts to show us what idols we’re still clinging to.

These painful waterfalls of grace experiences are no less precious than answered prayer that has us shouting “Alleluia!” And, it seems to me, they are the very times, places, and events in which Paul urges us to give thanks in and for ALL things. (1 Thes. 5:18)

When you’re standing under a waterfall and the water hits you with such force that it hurts, our natural inclination is to step out of the water’s flow. We can retreat back into the safe space behind the veil of the water, or we can step forward into the pool that the waterfall feeds. In either instance we can still see and appreciate the flow and force of the water, we can reach out our hands to feel it or catch it.

And so, I think it is with our own prayers and thanksgiving in experiencing these hard grace places.

We can step back into the protection of the knowledge of God’s love – the safe space behind the veil. We rest in knowing that a good Father sends grace overflowing into every circumstance and provides shelter for those times when the pressure is just too much to stand up under. We can step forward into the pool fed by grace and let our minds and souls float in the promise of provision that grace always carries.

·         When a terminal cancer diagnosis is given to your beloved father.

·         When a spouse is looking at month 13 of unemployment.

·         When grown children turn away from God.

·         When a friend loses her husband unexpectedly.

·         When natural disasters wipe out every possession.

·         When bitterness and resentment seem to be the only emotional settings we have.

·         When depression raises its tentacles again.

This life we live, this journey we are on to get to our real home, is riddled with rough roads and valleys and obstacles and gut-wrenching heartache.

And still Grace pours down. Sometimes in a slow trickle. Sometimes in a relaxing, bubbly brook flow. Sometimes in torrents. Sometimes we see the source. Sometimes the source is hidden. But Grace pours down.

And we say, “You are here, God. Thank you for grace. I may not understand it all. But I trust you. And I trust Your love for me. Let me stand under this waterfall – and let Grace wash over me.”