Early this morning, Bingley and I braved the sodden greenway together. Nothing like a refreshing morning walk when it's 34 degrees, raining to beat the band, and windy. Yes, let me go ahead and answer your question: I am crazy.
But truth be told, it wasn't really my choice. Bingley has to be walked. I'm the mom. Voila. Need I say more?
I'm living for the day when one of our children walks downstairs--after making their bed and bringing down their laundry--and says with a smile, "Ah, Mama, let me do it today! You sit down on the couch and read the paper. I'll go fetch you some hot tea before I head out into the howling, Arctic winds with Mr.B. And by the way, have I told you lately how much I love you?"
That so could happen.
Yeah, right...I'm humming the tune of "To Dream the Impossible Dream" from Man of La Mancha. A great musical, by the way.
But I digress. How unusual. As Bingley and I walked along the water-inundated greenway, I was startled at how high little Crabtree Creek had risen. What is normally a lazy, low and sluggish creek had become a veritable raging torrent of water. Water poured past the bridges and threatened to overflow the banks. It was stunning, really, to see the dramatic transformation from yesterday when the creek was...well, an innocent little creek and not a throbbing, rushing river.
Bingley, thankfully, seemed pretty uninterested in the whole thing. Had he decided to give her a try and jump in, I might be writing a mighty sad blog right now. Now see...there's another benefit to obeying the city's leash laws--not only do you miss the joy of visiting with the nice animal control officers as they give you a ticket, but you also don't have to worry about your sweet puppy jumping into the water and flying down the stream as you stand there stunned. So we're all good with the leash laws. And, by the way, Bingley always wears his rabies tag. Anyway...
My point? Who knows. No, no seriously, I do have one. Just this morning I read these words: "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for You, my God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. Where can I can go and meet with God?" (Ps.42:1-2)
Wow, this really hit me today, for what a reminder that this is to be our attitude towards meeting with and knowing our Lord. Like a desperately thirsty deer panting for the water that will quench it's thirst and save it's life.
Is that how I prepare to meet my God? With that kind of expectancy, that kind of determined and relentless desire to be in the presence of the Almighty? How thirsty am I really for my Lord or do I quench my thirst with so many lesser, inferior substitutes?
Gosh, how often we rush to satisfy our thirst by lapping from shallow little mud puddles by the side of the road when God is offering us a rushing, raging torrent of His stream of living water. Mud puddles of possessions...or pleasures...or perfection (perfect house, perfect children, perfect appearance...). They'll never satisfy. Never. Only His stream of living water will fully and finally quench our thirst. "Whoever believes in Me," said the Lord Jesus, "streams of living water will flow from within them." (John 7:38)
So Lord, forgive us. Forgive us for settling for little drops here and there of the world's tepid water when You offer us so infinitely much more--those streams of living water ready to fill us, flow from within us, and splash over those around us with the joy of Your presence.
Keep us thirsty for you, Father, and allow our thirst to be satisfied by nothing less than Your streams of joyful, abundant, living water. To God be the glory.
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