It was raining. I couldn’t see it falling, but still it was raining. I couldn’t see the rain, but the ground showed it. Small patches of water where the rain had touched it. I couldn’t see the rain land, nor could I see the patches grow as I watched them and yet it was raining. What I could see was the change when I looked away and then I looked back. How more and more of the ground was wet each time, and how less of it remained dry. I could not see the rain fall. I could not see it land. But I could see the change it made. So I stepped outside in to it. I could not see the rain, but I could feel it. Tiny little cold pin pricks all over my skin. I could not see the rain but slowly it covered me. And I stayed. At first I became a little damp but soon I was drenched. And yet still I couldn’t see the rain. How my soul longs for your Spirit Lord to fall like this rain and soak me to my very core.
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