There is a different beauty to the Albuquerque desert that is hard to describe. The last two days I have often stopped what I am doing to soak in the majesty of the mountains in the East and stare over the rolling desert to the West. The harsh landscape seems to quietly beckon us to pay attention to it and to see through it to pictures of Beauty that the lush areas of the world do not paint for us. There is just something about this desert that is attracting...even if it attracts us to the barren reality of being dry.
More often than not, I wake up "dry." This dryness does not come from a sense of missing the Father's presence, but the reality of where we are headed. There is a starkness to the reality that what we are going to do- the things that mean the most to us- we cannot do. I cannot work hard enough, pray enough, say the right words enough, be holy enough, be strategic enough, be wise enough to do what needs to be done.
This is too big for me and I do not (in and of myself) have anything to give that will transform people's hearts.
Drinking in the reality of that is scary to me. When it comes to these things I feel dryer than the desert I am visiting for a couple of days. Empty.
We have often said that we want to live a life that doesn't make sense unless Jesus is alive...and available.
That is why these words were like a cold drink of water to my soul this morning:
"When the poor and needy seek water,
and there is none,
and their tongue is parched with thirst,
I the LORD will answer them;
I the God of Israel will not forsake them.
I will open rivers on bare heights;
and fountains in the midst of the valleys.
I will make the wilderness a pool of water,
and the dry land springs of water.
I will put in the wilderness a cedar, the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive.
I will set in the desert the cypress, the plane and the pine together,
that they may see and know,
may consider and understand together,
that the hand of the LORD has done this,
the Holy One of Israel has created it."
(Isaiah 41:17-20)
The heights of the Sandia mountains are bare because the snow is gone. There won't be a river flowing from the mountains until the next snow melt. The desert around us does not erupt with fountains of water. It soaks in any water it can find and holds it, greedily, to itself. It does not share.
That's the point. If people's thirst will be quenched it won't be from the barrenness of our own wills or dutiful action...it will be an eruption of a river of God's grace from the overflow of his will and his work. If what I believe is God's vision for our lives will happen it will be because he made water flow where we least expected it and we all respond by drinking deeply of his lavish grace.
Most of all, when we drink deeply we will all know together that "the hand of the LORD has done this." We will all soak in the truth that what matters most in the world comes from our Father in heaven and worship and rest will erupt from our souls.
Father, we want to see the depth of how much we need you, how poor we are. I am scared of that, though because I will feel that it all depends on you. What if you don't come through? What if your grace seems meager to us? You have never failed us and you have never give "just enough." You are a lavish giver. Oh, Father, please open our eyes today to see your lavish grace to us and the people around us...so that we will drink deeply from the river of your delights and be satisfied in you. In Jesus' name.
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