1 Chronicles 29:14
But who am I, and who are my people, that we should be able to give as generously as this? Everything comes from you, and we have given you only what comes from your hand.
~Why do I sense raindrops when I pray with opened hands? The return is heavier than I expected, Lord. Each drop filled with expectancy, urgency and gravity. The drops rolling around like marbles along the palm lines from a weary grip.
~Fingertips weak from opening clinched fists where fingernails had turned white from tension. Blood rushing through my hands and tickling my senses while awakening a part that had fallen asleep.
~You demand service, giving and faith, but why the raindrops in return? The wilderness has cracked my skin and caused pain when touched. Yet there’s still water in the desert. The voices are quiet and the storehouses are shut but you send the rain.
~I never knew how hard it was to catch a single drop until I tried. However, I was able to watch it for a season as it danced along before falling to the ground. I tried to give them back to you but I cannot catch them all; there are too many and it’s really heavy, Lord.
~As I closed my hands and focused on the rain, the Lord spoke, “You’re not catching weighted raindrops my son…”
“You’re catching the water I washed my hands in while I prayed a blessing before a meal now pouring over you.”
“You’re catching the water I turned into wine, drawing you into new wineskins, pouring over you.”
“You’re catching the waves I told to ‘be still’ and who knows my name now pouring over you.”
“You’re catching the sweat from my brow when the soldiers beat me now pouring over you.”
“You’re catching the water when they pierced my side now pouring over you.”
“You’re catching the oil from my anointing as I sing over you in the presence of my Father as we await your arrival.”