Miracle in the Rain

With all of the rain we had, it reminded me of a story I read about John Tesh (musician and former host of "Entertainment Tonight"). Here is the story of one of his concerts....

"On August 12, 1994, with Connie and two and a half month-old Prima in the audience of twelve thousand, I took the stage at Red Rocks Amphitheatre with my band and the eighty-piece Colorado Symphony Orchestra. From the very first downbeat I was energized like never before. The audience caught the joy from the stage and roared their approval after every song.

Then, four songs into the program, the temperature suddenly dropped, and in moments we were in the middle of a driving rainstorm. Over my right shoulder I heard a commotion and turned to see the orchestra rushing off-stage. The rain would have destroyed their delicate violins and cellos. My heart sank.

So this was it. We risked it all and got three songs. I had borrowed against the house. I had put my family’s security at risk. What a disaster. I watched as the water slammed into my grand piano. And then I turned my gaze to the audience and was startled by what I saw. No one was leaving. They all started putting on rain parkas and opening umbrellas. No one moved. I turned to the stage manager, who had opened an umbrella for me. He gave an encouraging smile.” Hey, it’s Red Rocks,” he said. “It always rains here. They’re used to it!”

Terrific. But how was I supposed to record a concert without the symphony? My violinist Charlie Bisharat had the answer. “ Come on, Let’s play in the rain. This will be cool.” What followed was an experience I do not suppose I will ever have again. I turned to address the audience: “Well, the symphony had to leave but you obviously aren’t going anywhere. If you don’t mind, we’d like to play for you . . . in the rain.”

The crowd, sensing that they could save the day, roared back at us, pumping their umbrellas in the air. And so five of us . . . Piano, electric violin (I know, he’s crazy), bass, drums, percussion, and guitar, with rain drops ricocheting off our instruments, played like men possessed. Charlie was running from one side of the stage to the other . . . skidding on the slippery rock surface. I looked back at our drummer, Dave Hooper. Water was pouring out of his bass drum. There was a river running down the center aisle of the audience. A cameraman fell as he tried to follow Charlie.

I just kept praying. “God, stay in this. If this is your plan for us, then please just make sure it all gets on tape.” And then it happened. And if I didn’t have it on tape you would never believe me. Fifteen minutes after the rainstorm began, it stopped. And I mean it was like someone hitting an off switch.

The rain stopped, the orchestra returned to the stage, and as the audience retracted their umbrellas, they were greeted by a full moon overhead. By this time most of us onstage were in tears. We had witnessed what can only be described as an intervention. We finished the concert basking the unspoken connection between the audience and us. All of us—audience and performers alike—knew that we had been part of something supernatural."