On a sunny day in the middle of July, after being outside for more time than I care to be…I get thirsty. Parched. I can get a water bottle on about any corner. Or in my house. Water is accessible.
In more ways than one. Imagine desert heat. Sticky-hot wildernesses. No CVS. No tap. Unbearable heat.
But…
God makes rivers and gives water.
Musing/Meditation prompts: Imagine the last time you were in a mess, how God made a way for you. Was it unexpected? Was it satisfying? Give Him praise for making the impossible, possible. He’s limitless. All-knowing, All-powerful! His voice is like a rush of waters. Tremble at His awesomeness. And muse on the fact that you are His beloved. He chose you. You did nothing to make Him choose you. Before you were born, He said, “You are mine. I want you.” His Word is living water. When was the last time you craved a drink?
Fill in the blank:
If God came down (again) in the flesh to spend the day with just me, I would want Him to take me to___________ and we would__________.
Here’s mine: I would want Him to take me to a tropical island–just the two of us. I would hold His Hand, chase Him along the beach–when He wasn’t chasing me–splashing Him with the water. I’d like to listen to Him tell the creation story as we sat in warm sand, the waves lapping at my imperfect toes, washing over his scarred feet. And as the sun set, I’d ask Him to recite a passage from Song of Solomon as I leaned on His shoulder–that took bruises for me. I’d trace my fingers along His hands, feeling the ragged edges of endured pain. He’d wrap me in the train of his white robe when I shivered from the salty air and whisper how much I’m loved. And I’d cry and squeeze Him tighter and tell him the same. Then I’d beg Him not to go or to at least whisk me away into eternity. Because a day like that, I don’t think I could ever go back to “normal” and He’d say, “I don’t want you to. I want you to go back and share the love we treasured today with others. But don’t cry…” He’d wipe my tears away and slide them into a crystal bottle He holds close to His heart. Then He’d lean down, his eyes would flash like flames of fire, and He’d whisper, “I’m coming back.”
*Lori Wildenberg will be here on Wednesday talking about Living Water! Don’t miss it! Especially if you’re a parent.
