Friday, October 17, 2014

Dear God,

 

Sometimes we cannot get to the water but an open heart, soul, and mind will allow the water to come to us.  As we sit in the dry, dusty desert, we hear and see life all around us.  We say, “Why is not everything dead?”  You say,  “Why would you think it so? My life is always alive in every place and time.  Come, drink and eat with me.  My food and drink will always nourish you back to life.  And while you sup at my table, look around and see.  See what beauty I give you.  When you are lost, look up; I will have my sun lead you by day.  At night my stars will delight in revealing your path.  Come to me, all you who are tired and need rest.  Here in my home, the desert, I will take care of you.”

These words resound in every direction.  Your call and invitation are clear; come to me.  What I have come to understand, as I sit on the red rock hill in the mountain canyon 6500 feet above sea level, is I need the desert.  I need to learn the lessons only the desert can provide.  I need to be empty so I can fill up on you.  I need to be lost so I can find the true way.  I need to be hungry so I can eat the manna that gives life.  I need to be silent so I can hear your living words.  I need to be wanting so I can reflect upon my true nature in you.  I need to be weak and vulnerable so I can discover your great strength.  I need to fear so I can call your name and know the length, height, depth, and width of living faith.

When I sorrow or moan desert living, it is because I do not know the true value of the desert.  When I complain about my ever-present need, it is because I do not know the treasures hidden in the desert.  When I cry out and want my way and resist the desert, it is because I do not know the fullness of life you want to hand to me. 

You drew me to this desert and I am glad, my heart rejoices, and my soul is refreshed.

Wash me

and make me clean,
O Lord.
Forgive me
when I
resist you.
Call me anytime
because as you

are present

to me,

I long

to be present

to you.

Much gratitude, my creator, redeemer, and beloved, Andrea