• Debbie Corum

Rain On Me

It rained this morning. A nice, steady rain. I closed my eyes and listened to its rhythmic drumming against our gutter’s metal drain spout as I rocked back and forth on our porch swing.

How clean and fresh it smelled. My wilted little garden certainly needed this resuscitating after weeks of merciless heat hammering us. Why, even my Hardy Hibiscus had lost its hardiness and was dropping big pink blossoms like hotcakes. I felt a little sapped myself, void of inspiration and motivation.

With a sigh, I opened my eyes and resumed thumbing through the pages of my Bible in hopes of finding something to snap me out of it.

Isaiah 55:10 For as the rain and snow come down from the heavens, and return not there again, but water the earth and make it bring forth and sprout, that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater . . .

I glanced up at the ash tree next to our porch and watched its leaves unashamedly dance with the raindrops. They already looked a little greener, a little livelier. How could they not, after this timely touch from heaven? I thanked God and returned to the text.

So shall My word be that goes forth out of My mouth; it shall not return to Me void [without producing any effect, useless] but it shall accomplish that which I please and purpose, and it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.[i]

“Lord, rain on me.”

I closed my eyes and pictured God’s life-giving words leaping from the page. They seeped down through my parched soul, saturating my tired spirit the same way rain had soaked the crusty soil of my garden.

After a while, I arose from my seat feeling strangely refreshed. God had watered me, inspired me. With new liveliness in my step, I headed indoors to get on with my day.



[i] Isaiah 55:11

140 views3 comments

Recent Posts

See All

My prayer time this morning began with a line of scriptures parading through my mind. One of which was Behold, what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of

In a time when the bottom is falling out of everything we've considered normal in this country, I’m reminded of a sermon preached years ago out of Mark 5:1–20 about the demoniac living at the tombs. I

It’s looking like I’ve entered a new season with the Lord lately. I say that because the other day made the fifth or sixth time He’s given me the exact-same message in a short while. I glance at my be