In my front yard I have a grapevine doe. She used to be a Christmas decoration, but eventually the light bulbs burned out. So I moved her over to my koi pond, which sits right in front of my dining-room window. And now I can watch her all year long.
Every once in awhile I see a lizard skittering inside her belly.
What struck me today, though, was that she’s ever so close to drinking that water, but never quite getting there. If she could just stretch a little further; if the water would just come a little closer, she could be fulfilled.
It reminded me of the verse, “As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God” (Ps. 42:1b).
Do I long for God? Do I literally feel as if I will die if I’m not with Him?
This winter has been rough—I know, I know, how can a Florida winter be rough?—but though the sun has been shining and the weather has been warm, the storms of life have almost undone me.
From emotional crises to a nagging health issue to an accident that’s causing me to take on a role that doesn’t come naturally to me, the blizzards hit one after another, just as if I’m New England in this winter of ’17.
Oh, how I long for the flowing streams of God’s grace. I don’t want to sip, I want to plunge in, head over heels, and feel Him surround me and take me under so that I’m no longer breathing air, I’m breathing Jesus. Every breath I take.
Sometimes the life-giving water seems far away. I just can’t reach that far. There is too
much fear, like lizards crawling around in my belly. Do I trust Him, even though He’s choosing to keep me in this season?
Do I believe He’s a good Father who is doing the best for me? Working all things together for good. Because I do love Him. I am called according to His purpose.
As the hymn writer Horatio Spafford said, “When peace like a river attendeth my way . . .”
So many water images in the Bible, Jesus Himself being the epitome of that. Living Water.
“Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!” Ps. 34:8.
The water is fine, I tell that doe. And myself. Dive right in.