NeuroDivine

I waited in the winter rain

1.
I waited in the winter rain,
my feet sunk deep in sodden clay;
You drew me from the miry pit
and set me on Your narrow way.
No boast is mine, no strength but Yours;
Your truth is all my trembling needs.
In bog‑light cold, Your whisper comes—
the holy word the sinner heeds.

2.
You thunder over barren fields,
Your hail lays low the stubborn ground;
The land itself bears witness still
to fire and judgment all around.
Yet even in the storm You call
a hardened heart to turn and live;
Your holiness consumes our pride,
yet burns to cleanse, and not to sieve.

3.
O teach us fear that leads to life,
the reverence this world forgets;
To walk in justice, mercy, truth,
and keep the vows our souls have set.
For all that shakes will fall away
when You unveil Your final flame;
Your Kingdom stands in purity—
no shadow dares withstand Your name.

4.
So lead us through these Lenten days,
through wilderness and searching night;
Strip back our comforts, clear our sight,
till only Christ remains our light.
And when the Shannon’s dawn breaks pale,
and frost retreats from field and stone,
May all that’s false be burned away,
and all that’s Yours in us be known.

Hymn information

First line: I waited in the winter rains
Text: Michael McFarland Campbell
Meter: Double Long Metre
Tune: St Patrick
Themes: Psalm 40, Exodus 9:13-35, Hebrews 12:14-29, Lent

Reflection

Devotional Response: Standing with God in the weather

“I waited in the winter rain…”

Let this be our starting place—not perfection, not certainty, but the honest ground beneath our feet. God meets us in the rain‑soaked places where we feel slow, stuck, or unsure. The waiting itself becomes holy because God bends toward us there.

As the hymn traces the journey from rain to thunder to fire, we remember that God’s holiness is not a sieve that discards us, but a fire that refines us. The storms of life—sensory overwhelm, sudden change, emotional intensity—are not signs of divine displeasure. They are simply weather. And God is present in every shift of the sky.

What is harmful is burned away.
What is precious is revealed.
Nothing true in us is ever lost.

And woven through this is the quiet, steady wisdom of the Benedictine way: stability. Not the demand to stay put in pain, but the invitation to remain rooted in God’s presence right where we are. In our own bodies. In our own minds. In our own landscapes. Stability whispers that we do not need to escape ourselves to encounter God. We can stand where we are, and God will stand with us.

So today, let this be our prayer:

God meets us in the rain.
God speaks in the storm.
God steadies what trembles.
God burns away only what harms — the fire, and not the sieve.
And in staying present, staying rooted, staying held,
may we discover the God who has been with us all along.

May this truth settle in us like morning light on the Shannon—quiet, honest, and unmistakably new.

Lectio Divina

Opening the Space

Find a quiet moment. Let your breath settle. Notice the “weather” within you— calm, restless, foggy, bright, or storm‑tossed. Let it be what it is. God meets you there.

1. Lectio—Read

Read the first line of the hymn slowly:

“I waited in the winter rain.”

Let the words land.
What part of your life feels like winter rain today?
Where do you feel stuck, slowed, or softened by the weight of things?

Read the line again, gently.

2. Meditatio—Reflect

Sit with these truths:

• God’s holiness is not a sieve that discards, but a fire that refines.
• What is harmful is burned away; what is precious is revealed.
• Stability invites you to remain rooted in God’s presence right where you are—in your own body, your own mind, your own landscape.

Which of these speaks to you most today?
Where do you sense God refining, not rejecting?
Where might stability be calling you to stand, breathe, and stay present?

3. Oratio—Respond

Let your heart speak to God in its own way.

You might pray:

God meets me in the rain.
God speaks in the storm.
God steadies what trembles.
God burns away only what harms—the fire, and not the sieve.

Offer God whatever feels fragile, fiery, or unfinished in you.

Contemplatio—Rest

Sit in silence for a moment.

Imagine the pale morning light on the Shannon—quiet, honest, unhurried.
Let that light rest on you.
Let yourself be held.

No striving.
No fixing.
Just presence.

Carrying It Into the Day

As you move through the hours ahead, return to one simple truth:

You can stand where you are, and God will stand with you.

Copyright

© Michael McFarland Campbell. 2026. 
Permission granted for local church or parish use with attribution. Not for commercial reproduction.

A companion image for this hymn is available at Received Light.

Written recently and shared here as part of the NeuroDivine hymn collection.