I read a blog post from a family member tonight which spoke of the times in life where it feels as if we are in the desert. I recognize the sentiment.
The desert is a tough place. It’s dry and parched and we are in want of something to drink. We feel like we’re dying, about to dry out and blow away. We’re so thirsty. We’ve been going too long, and it’s too much to keep going, our thirst overwhelming. It’s a place where we see our dreams and wants and plans wither up for lack of water, and the pain is very great because it seems we’ve been abandoned and there are no landmarks as far as the eye can see.
We feel alone. And we’re still thirsty.
As I was out for a run tonight, the idea of being in the desert of life kept tumbling through my head. Thoughts of how God leads us beside still waters came to mind. Or, how Jesus told the woman at the well that he didn’t bring regular water, but living water.
It then occurred to me that sometimes we’re not really in the desert (and God is there in those times — just ask the ravens), but sometimes we’re thirsty and parched because we are not seeing the water he’s offering. Maybe we wanted something different to drink, some other kind of cup to drink from. Maybe we wanted our water a different temperature, or more often.
“I’m thirsty!” we cry out.
“Drink from this cup,” he replies, the fact that he is there to reply meaning we are not alone. But we won’t drink the water he’s offering us. Perhaps it is too bitter and we can’t bear to drink it.
How often is the desert not a desert, but a time of dryness due to our own refusal to drink the water he’s offering?
I would say I’ve felt as if I were in the desert for years, culminating to the driest recent past year imaginable, but I finally realized there was something to drink nearby. I just had expected something different, wanted something different, asked for something different… I’m still sipping the water, tiny bit at a time, wanting what I wanted but holding the cup given me instead; it is starting to taste good. Bittersweet, but something to drink nonetheless.
Drop by drop, the desert I thought I was in is banished, and I see where I was all along. Things come back to life in small ways, usually, and not in a deluge.
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I appreciate what you shared in this blog, I would reply AMEN
First, glad to see you’re out of your blogging desert!
, I don’t know if I would agree wholeheartedly with your view on this one. Not speaking for The Almighty, mind, but there are quite a number of things on His mind than handing out sippy cups for those of us ingrates. I think His plan for us is set in motion in very general terms, the details of which are in our own scabby and perhaps paltry hands to mangle (more likely) and to mold. We are the architects of our lives, better or not. We’re also the builders. God provides the drawing materials.
Second, as a Christian (although definitely nominal at this point in my life
Then again, I just had some wine so feel free to forget what I just typed.
The difference between they way I view God and the way you view God (and the inherent understanding of what I wrote) is that you seem to see him as a “watchmaker”: he made things, then wound it up and lets them sort of play out without being too involved. It’s the sort of God Bette Midler sang about in her song “From a Distance” in which there is a god, but he only watches, and from a distance. (Yes, I realize I conjured up a Bette Midler reference.)
I don’t hold to this. It’s too easy and let’s us explain away tough times, personal hurts, and lets us off the hook in the way we live through excuses and non-action.
I believe he is actively involved. This isn’t to say I fret over God’s will and plan when I lose my car keys, but I don’t think he’s up there saying “Julie, generally speaking, head that way. I’ll meet you at the end. It’s all up to you now. See ya.”
Certainly, he allows us to choose (which gets into the huge sticky mess of free-will vs. predestination which I don’t want to delve into because I don’t know for sure) and our choices affect how our lives go, but the Bible says that not only is he Jehovah Jireh (the provider of what we need) but that the Holy Spirit is a “helper” and a helper doesn’t just dump a box of drawing materials in our lap and say “There you go. Do something with this. It’s all up to you.”
Instead, he helps. If we let him. Most of us don’t want the particular kind of help (i.e. we want a different “cup” of water) and go our own way and say “it was all up to me anyway and this is the best I can do.”
That’s a cop-out.
You’re a very wise person, Julie. It’s great hearing about your realization and especially how you articulated your journey in words. –And as a runner, I’m really glad you appreciate the little things like water before, during, and after your run.
Glad to see Lone Prairie return!
Bette Midler … seriously?!?
Anyway, the only way any of this ultimately makes sense is to take it all on faith I expect. Attempting to intellectually process then explain how the Holy Spirit and God works is vainglorious (wow, I remembered that word!) and empty. We do the “best” we can, attempt to make good choices when we can and hope and pray we’ve gotten it right.
Everything else is Bette Midler.
By the way, what does the R. stand for?
Ms. Midler can carry a tune.
(Ruth)
Yes, but where …