Michael Farren - Let It Rain Lyrics

Video

Michael W. Smith - Let It Rain feat. Alex Seeley (Official Lyric Video)

Meaning & Inspiration

There is a particular kind of discomfort that arises when we demand that heaven "open the floodgates." Michael Farren’s repetition of this petition in his 2012 release, Rushing Waters, carries a weight that is often ignored in our modern hunger for emotional catharsis. We sing this line as if we are summoning a light drizzle to cool a summer afternoon, yet the biblical precedent for the opening of the floodgates is nothing short of catastrophic.

When we encounter this phrase in Genesis 7, it is not an invitation for a fresh feeling or a pleasant worship experience; it is the breaking of the world’s order. It is judgment. It is the end of the old way of living. If we are to treat these lyrics as a creed, we must ask ourselves if we are truly ready for the flood. Are we actually praying for the dissolution of our own self-constructed kingdoms? To invite the deluge is to invite the total saturation of the human heart by the sovereign will of God—a process that necessarily drowns the ego.

The song’s simplicity is dangerous. By repeating the demand, the listener is forced into a corner. We are left asking: what are we actually asking to be flooded? If it is merely an internal state of euphoria, we are using the language of divine judgment to describe a human mood. That is a dangerous misuse of nomenclature.

True worship should be a surrender to the Imago Dei—a return to the intentional design of the Creator. If the floodgates open, they do not just provide "blessing" in the way our consumerist culture defines it. They wash away the debris of our sin, which is a painful, often messy business. I find myself hesitant when I hear this sung with a casual smile. There is an unfinished quality to the plea; it hangs in the air, asking whether we understand that when the windows of heaven are thrown wide, we do not emerge unchanged. We emerge, perhaps, like Noah—humbled, terrified, and fundamentally altered by the force of the waters.

There is a tension here between the desire for God’s presence and the fear of his holiness. We want the rain, but we are rarely prepared for the flood that requires us to leave behind the ground we have spent a lifetime standing on. Farren’s composition leaves us there, beneath the clouds, waiting for an answer that is rarely as gentle as we imagine it to be. We are left to wonder if we are actually praying for the water to wash us clean, or if we are simply looking for a way to make the weather match our desire for comfort. One is a prayer; the other is a request for a change in atmosphere. We must be careful not to mistake the latter for the former.