Drinking Water
I had left my house with a chore in mind and in a few blocks I sensed a drawing to go pray upon the hill overlooking my city. It had been a while since I had been there specifically. Arriving I felt quiet, not knowing what to pray. The parking lot was empty except for one car I assumed to be the pastor probably in his church office. I stopped near the gazebo and rolled down a window to hear my worship. I grabbed the small bible I kept in a side pocket and got out to walk.
The cold wind bit into my face and my hands quickly turned numb. I walked to the edges of the hillside and began to look down upon the streets lined with homes. I felt such a lack for words. Here alone I could only say aloud, “Lord, don’t let me get lost” and I pulled the small bible closer to my heart. Inside the pages was every prayer needed. In a short time I turned to go back to my chore.
Reaching for the door handle I saw a bottle had been put upon the hood of my car. The label only said, “Drinking Water”. Looking around I sought who had put it there. I did not see anyone and I hadn’t heard a thing. I’d only been here for no more than five minutes if that? Reaching for the bottle I got into the car to sit still for a few minutes. Looking at the label again I was reminded of my thirst for the Lord.
John 4:10 “…If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask Me, and I would give you living water.”
What Would Love Do Now?
The news is filled with diatribe. I have to weigh the desire to be informed against reporters trying to bend my emotions for their own agendas. A stirring within reminds me what lack of understanding feels like; pointing my fingers at everyone and especially God for losing someone I loved. In the worst hours of my pain, I wanted justice but God was not to be a part of that. I blamed Him, I accused Him, I talked about Him not being there, but never once did I actually talk to the Lord Himself about any of it. I can’t even remember saying a single prayer.
Closing all the news feeds I go back to the only good news (gospel) which can offer me truth and answers. Now is not the time to preach against the ills of our society. Now is the time to mourn with those who mourn. Quietly I begin to pray for those who lack understanding and will try to point fingers. Somewhere in the world, someone did the same for me once.
Shutting my eyes I can hear a single song verse, “what would you even say, when all of the words get in the way, what would love do now”?*
*lyrics by La EsperanzaTears In My Eyelashes
My eyelashes held tears not yet fallen. I wondered at the sensation. Was this what the flower petals felt when holding the dew of the morning, the moisture of God? A gentle delay; waiting for the moment of release when they’d finally drip leaving a trail upon my cheek, each tear having significance to the Lord.
Psalm 56:8b (NLT) You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each on in Your book.
Psalm 126:5 (ESV) Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!
To Touch God’s Heart
My head hurt and I drew close to hear the words just before the cannon went off again. I could see the moving lips but my hearing was deafened by the boom drowning out all conversation. Looking at the expressions I hoped I could understand without spoken words. Another cannon explosion caused me to close my eyes. This time I couldn’t read the lips but my hand was upon a shoulder. In that moment everything became silenced.
Breathing deeply into my lungs I listened with the only sense that mattered. In a touch I heard the rumbling of destiny, of hope, of authority and wonder. This was what it felt like to touch love, to touch eternity, to touch God’s heart.
Pearls
Her voice was familiar and comforting. I asked her to have coffee with me. We were hundreds of miles from each other’s location. She lay in her bed and I snuggled upon my couch to chat. It was easy to pick up from our childhood when we would sit with her grandma at the small kitchen table. She too would have a cup of coffee in front of her. I usually sat on the floor petting their Irish setter and we’d listen to her grandmother share her pearls of wisdom.
Years have passed and now the pearls of wisdom flow from my friend’s voice. As I listen to her talk I can still picture myself on the floor burying my hands in the dog’s fur, just listening.
Gathered Together
Mine felt like a small part in a big play. Grandeur on such a large scale made it hard to imagine why my role mattered. Still I was responsible to show up and I took my place in line waiting for what it was I was meant to do. The words were not given to me ahead of time so rehearsal was not an option. Essentially I was to respond from the heart and my spiritual coach would fill my mouth appropriately.
In the meantime I looked out the window to watch the rain drops. They helped me make sense of who I was and why I was here. On my own I was but a drop of water, but when gathered together with others, I was the deluge of a building river pouring life into a dry and barren ground.
Personal Hugs
I sat in front of the grate with my toes resting upon the chilly bricks. Soon enough the heat from the hearth would spread. Watching the flames grow I longed for contentment. Looking at the bible lying next to me I could feel peace come again. Memories of a thousand hugs flooded my senses. A childhood friend came to my thoughts. How I longed to give her every one of those hugs in this minute of her need. My Father heard this desire and in His goodness dispatched the angels to deliver each hug personally.
New Day Dawn
I lay still listening to the gentle rain fall upon our roof. I heard a ring tone notifying me of a text message. It was still dark out and I groped by feel above my pillows to collect my phone on the shelf. Opening it up to read, my heart felt sadness. My friend had lost a family member in the early hours of this rainy day. I was being asked for prayers.
Flipping back the covers I went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Looking out into the gray mist I could see the beginning of a new day dawn. My thoughts focused on how everyday lives come and lives go so quickly. I wondered if this man ever knew how special he was to the Lord? I wondered if even now he was having a conversation with Jesus? Breathing in deeply I began my own conversation with the Lord.
Lack Of Power
The man held the radio in his hands and wondered what it would speak or sing if it had power? He’d kept it boxed in original packing. Now and again he’d take it out of his closet to read what it was capable of. The box print said it had traditional AM and FM reception and also was equipped to receive HD Satellite digital signals. Playing with the dials, he turned it over, removing the back plate to look at the empty battery slots.
When he’d first received this gift, a circle of friends had looks of awe on their faces. He thought he’d seen admiration and longing in their eyes, but quickly learned he was mistaken. Each of them began to voice concern at the negative impact such a gift would have. The batteries needed for power were a bad idea which would destroy the environment. Any signal received would probably speak or sing of ways to deceive him. The man was hurt he couldn’t use his gift but trusted his friends were only trying to protect him. With regret, he packaged up this gift once more to put it away.