Whithering

There stood a tree, shrouded in the garb of winter, waiting for Spring to flourish, alone with a background of towering oaks, alive as if winter never happened. The lesser, a kindred spirit for I too have suffered from the ravages of colder weather, emotionally spent from too little time in the sun, my roots reaching to great depths seeking nourishment yet finding only parched places. Unable to rise with my own strength, I sway in the wind, bending but not breaking.

With only the resolve to roll out of bed an opportunity arose to wash feet (scrub toilets actually). There is value in serving, in humility, yet in completing my tasks, I felt less like a scrubber and more like the scrubee (read into that metaphor, as you will) and my feeble branches continued to wither.

Reading my journal entries, you may discover a consistent theme; my writer’s muse tends to be more active in my darker times, when the pressures of life have weighed me down, noise gathering into a single roar, drowning out the good in my life. This is very fertile ground and I must be wary as whether acorns or sticker burrs take root. Withering trees seek the closest water source yet at times find it salty and unfit. Thirsty souls seek as well, finding an oasis but end up drinking sand. As I suffered in thirst, a song from days past echoed in my ears:

Plant me by streams of living water
My soul is dry and begun to whither
Wash me with water from the well that won’t run dry
Make me whole again; make me whole again, Dear Lord.
Peter’s Lament – john g. adams 2009

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” John 4:13-14 – NIV

The Samaritan woman said, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty” and Peter at the Passover table “Then, Lord, wash not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!” John 13:9

That person is as if a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither— whatever they do prospers. Psalm 1:3

As a cup overflowing, living waters rushed through the driest deserts of my soul. Drinking deeply, in that very moment, another thirsty soul was in need and I passed it along.

Lord, may You be praised in the thirsting and Glorified in the quenching. Amen…

If these words have touched your heart, reach out to me at John@LiftedKeys.com and continue the conversation. I would love to know where and in what way God has guided His words through my pen.