The Desert Place

The morning is still. Deep shades of grey and purple stretch across the sky, outlining the shapes of the clouds. In moments the sun will rise over the horizon, replacing the dull colors with streaks of red, orange, and gold. The landscape is flat with sporadic bushes that give some texture to the otherwise dry, cracked surface. Water has not been seen in this area for several months, perhaps even years. The ground, if it could speak, would be moaning at this point with brief cries of “when Father, when?” “When will we see some rain that will satisfy, even briefly, the burning that we feel from the lack of water?”

No response is heard. The silence is deafening, the kind that makes your ears strain for any sound at all. Anything to break the stillness and remind me that I am not alone. After a while a faint ringing begins, so soft it almost feels imagined.

When, Abba, WHEN? Will this have an ending? Will there ever be life here again? I don’t know what to do other than sit down and rest for a minute. That usually leads to a question of whether or not I will get back up again. Sometimes the notion to stop everything and give up on moving forward comes to mind. Those are always the harder thoughts to fight. What would I do if that were to happen? Stop following Him? Stop looking for Him?

Oh, Lord, save me from myself for I know there is no life without You. And that is the saving thought. I am nothing without Him and so I know, somewhere deep in my heart, that I will get back up. At some point. For now, I sit and look around.

If only there was some form of life somewhere around me. I can see, way off in the distance what looks like a tree. It looks like it is holding on for dear life, begging for water. It's like it knows that it only needs to hold on one more moment. I see hope in that object and wonder how to tap into that for myself.

A deep sigh is heard that sounds like thunder in the silence.

Looking around I realize, that sound came from me. When did I resort to sighing like that?

I lower my head and silently begin to pray. I know He hears me, He told me that He will always be listening. My corrupt mind tries to figure out the magic formula. What will trigger a reaction? Should I be like a child and throw a fit? Yell and scream until I get some type of sign that He hears me, even if it is a scolding?

None of those thoughts feel right. So I continue to pray, not really saying much of anything other than reminding myself that I know He loves me and that He hears me. The tears flow slowly down my cheeks. They always do that. They feel like they connect me to His heart. I have given up trying to stop them, it is pointless. I have also let go of the fear that once they started they would not ever stop.

After a while, I look up. In the time I was praying and softly crying, something happened around me. The sky has erupted with brilliant colors, some of which I am pretty sure I have not seen before. Streaks of color appear where the clouds tried to take shape but He stopped them. He wanted to show me His power at work. I could hear Him faintly, “Watch this My child.” He created a breathtaking scene that was so vibrant and full of life it touched me deep in my heart. I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “WOW!” That was all I could utter. The sun kissed my cheek with warmth, the same cheek where the cold tears had just touched.

“I am here,” He said softly, “just a little longer.”

A little longer, for what? My restless mind tried to ask that question. I stopped it, I have that control, I can stop it. “Yes Abba,” I heard myself whisper, “I am okay, I can do whatever you say.” I could feel Him smile in my heart where I know He resides. “I just needed some water, I was getting parched.” His smile widened. “You know where to get it.”

And in that moment, I knew what He meant. Yes, I did know where to go to get the water when it gets so dry I begin to turn on myself. I need to get still and quiet with Him. That is not always easy when you are hurting physically, mentally, or emotionally. I know what to do, He taught me long ago. For me, it involves headphones so the music can be loud enough to drown out everything else. I then need to close my eyes and sense His presence. That can only happen when I am still enough and my mind is quiet. That takes much practice and even after all these years I don’t always get that right.

Then I focus on Him. I focus on our promises to one another. Mine to Him: that He has my heart. His that He loves me and will always be with me. I renew my claim that I belong to Him. Not for His benefit, He never doubted that, more for mine.

And that time always has tears, but these are different than the ones felt in the desert place. These tears are intimate, vulnerable and trusting. They show that we are connecting and that nothing will take me from Him. And always that time ends with “I am here, I will never leave you, it’s going to be okay.” The words that He knows I need to hear. It’s going to be okay. So simple, so profound and oh so comforting.

That gives me the fuel to move forward. Even if nothing in the natural world has changed. There is something about hearing them from the one I love the most, the one who loves me the most, that gives me the strength and security to keep going.

And with that, I stand up again.