As our field glistens green again and remnants of last week’s snow storm drip into murky puddles, I think about water. I am parched. I can’t remember the last time I took a drink of water. I’ve slurped steaming coffee. I’ve ransacked bowls of cookies, pretzels and M&M’s at holiday parties. I’ve inhaled carrots and dried apples while racing out the door. “How about some water?” my body screams. I contemplate staying to fill up my water bottle, but figure there isn’t enough time for that.   The human body can go 3 days without water before dehydration takes over. I shrug, and opt to drink tomorrow.

I sit for a moment, after a hot shower. Oh, how it feels so good to sit. The winter bite has made this mama’s busy hands red and raw. I tend to my cracked knuckles with some caramel-apple scented whipped-wonder. My scrubbing, rubbing, wringing, loving hands are satisfied, for now. However, my body still cries out for more.

It is then that I realize, I’m not only parched physically. Spiritually, I’m brittle, down right cracked empty. The dust down inside might burst out of my mouth in a puff if I speak! My soul yearns to be drenched in the ever flowing water of life. The kind that washes over every ounce of my inner most being. The kind that purifies, dissipating every speck of sin stuck in those hard to reach places. The kind that rushes in like a flood, rises quickly, then bubbles over onto everything around.

In my moment of stillness, The Lord cups my face in His gentle hands and urges, “Drink, child of mine. Whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst; the water that I shall give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:14)

His words move deep, and I melt into the strength of His promise. I’m never guaranteed tomorrow, so I’ll drink now. Everything else can wait; the cleaning, the wrapping, the shopping, the planning. He seems to make time stop when I make time to be with Him.  The human soul can go days, weeks, years without Christ, but each minute that passes, it is dying.  A soul without the Giver of life is shriveled up, dead inside.

A sister texts, she is so overwhelmed she could cry.  Each item on her to-do list seeming to weigh a ton, she shovels her way through.   I encourage her to STOP, right then, and make time to drink.  There’s a rushing stream of crystal clear water for all who feel they are stuck in a desert.  We all find ourselves wandering vapid through wastelands at times.  The spring of water is waiting, if we’ll come.  “Just as a dear longs for running streams, God, I long for you.” (Psalm 42:1)

I can feel the weight of all my toxins and impurities flow up and out, as I drink the presence of my King. Our King that is coming, yet already with us.


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