top of page

Outpouring in your innermost

I cannot contain the joy…”

I write on my way to the trail head,

“ is to know the Lord.  To hold Him in my heart.  In my innermost being.  Where I’ve known Him from the beginning.  I can’t really sing, but I can’t help but to sing.  As the birds sing to their love, so I sing to the Lord – and He hears me.”

The rain started to pour when I was about thirty minutes from my hike.  The thought of not going crossed my mind.  I could find a cafe somewhere.  Perch with another cup of coffee.  Get a bite to eat.  But when I’m determined, I’m determined.  And I was determined.  

So the route resumed.  

No rain jacket? No problem.  They’re stuffy anyways.

I’m a sensually sensitive person.  As many of us are.  Sounds, touch, taste, smell – I’m sensitive. 

Please turn the volume on the television down.  Please, for the love of natural pine sap, put less cologne on.

So the prospect of rainfall on my skin while walking amongst a forest sounded wonderful.  

And it was.

Another perk of hiking on a rainy morning:  you’re usually alone.

And I was.

I feel most natural bouncing up a trail.  The air is open, the trail expects nothing but my footprints,  and God’s character is unhidden to the beholding eye.

Perhaps it’s the stirring in my innermost being that moves me to notice Him in the waterfall.  Not only is it His powerful creation… It's illustration of His power in creation.

And the word so compelling to share, that I’m here to attest to, is when you feel the Holy Spirit pour Himself into your life, you know.

As the rushing waterfall pouring into your spirit.

Removing the veil of separation once in man’s heart by the power of this cascading current of life.

This cascade… this rushing current of life… once finally having tasted and seen, you will have felt God’s restorative touch in your innermost being.

Where God first touched you in the destined womb of your mother.

You see what I’m getting at?  In our mother's womb, we were touched by God. Knit by His very hands.

When we are touched again, now, this side of the womb, we recognize it – for it is the touch that first gave us life.  And it is the touch that gives us life again.

Recent Posts

See All

Writing horizontally and dying

It’s been a hard day and I really don’t want to do anything other than what I’ve been doing the past three hours: lying in bed. However, this blog-journal-thing, is giving me something my writing mus

that's all she wrote!

Maybe its the Benadryl paired with the normal tiredness causing that space behind my forehead to feel so heavy. I sit here juicing my keyboard for the day's final spew of thoughts. I don't have muc


bottom of page