Hiding the Word:
For the last few days, we’ve been waving at each other from the rear view mirror of our cars.
At least that’s how it feels. My husband is performing in a show for the next two weeks. The girls and I have been flitting here and there to concerts, day trips, birthday parties, doctor’s appointments and more. Plus we’ve started rehearsals for a show of our own.
I kiss my husband goodbye in the morning before he grabs his bagged lunch from the counter. The next thing I know, I’m waking up to the sound of his car pulling into the driveway past my bedtime.
It’s okay. It’s temporary. His show will end. Our summer groove will settle into place. We’ll have other weeks of craziness, but nights of rest as well.
But just for today, just for this moment, I am thinking how nice it would be to chat with him about his day and talk about how all this whirlwind of life is going. If we could talk without children interrupting, fighting, or protesting their bedtime routine, even better.
It’s why I would have failed as a Navy wife–my need for the continuance of connection. One night without the phone call after his work day, one day when he’s up early and home late, and I miss my husband. I make determined efforts to sit by his side and hear what happened in his life that day.
Because if you don’t make the time, it generally doesn’t just happen on its own.
How long can you go before you miss God? How many days can slip past before you feel the void of His presence and mourn the loss of connection with Him?
If we’re walking in intimacy with our God, shouldn’t we miss Him the moment we’ve started a day without prayer or the instant we’ve flown past our quiet time?
On the busiest days, when a snack (preferably chocolate) and mindless television seem the answer to my tired body and exhausted mind, that’s exactly when I long for God the most. Because if I don’t make the time, it doesn’t just magically happen.
It’s the day when I missed my afternoon cup of tea over Scripture because I’m out and about with frenetic activity that I flop into my dining room chair in the first moments after my kids’ bedtime. I take one long indulgent sip sweet hot tea, open up my Bible and pray, “Dear Jesus, how I’m desperate for You today. Pleas meet me in this place.”
Since life is crazy, I’ve chosen a verse for the week that reminds us all of how desperately we should seek after intimacy with God:
O God, you are my God;
I earnestly search for you.
My soul thirsts for you;
my whole body longs for you
in this parched and weary land
where there is no water
(Psalm 63:1 NLT)
This time with God isn’t a luxury. It’s not a bonus, an extra, an amenity, or a perk.
It’s life itself. It’s as simple as desperation for water for a soul in the desert.
Let’s seek Him earnestly this week, making it an active and engaged pursuit of His presence. Making it a priority, not just nonchalantly hoping a few minutes of unstructured time will show up in our day. Because if we don’t make it happen, it never will.
Well-Hunting in the Desert
“Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs”
When we first moved into this house, we quickly discovered something unnoticed during the walk-through or inspection. The water smelled like rotten eggs. As a result, I was brushing my teeth with bottled water and holding my breath while taking a shower.
Like any good 21st century homeowners, we Google-searched our way into solutions and scoured the Internet for answers. Which we found. Simply open the top of our well and shock the water with a $1 jug of bleach.
Sounded easy. Until we realized that somewhere on this half acre of land is the top to a well that we could not find. We knew it had to be there. We had running water and didn’t pay the city for it. We consulted drawings of our property and sheepishly hinted to the water specialist (whom we had to call since we couldn’t fix the stinky water ourselves, having not found the well), that we really would like to know where the well was hidden on this land of ours. He wasn’t helpful.
We have a guess as to where it might be, but we are in some ways still well-hunters, searching for the source of our water, assuming its presence without seeing it ourselves.
I’ve been well-hunting recently in real life, too. Like Hagar, wandering in the wilderness, running low on provisions, hopelessly lost and not able to go back and yet not certain where to go instead. Out there in her wilderness, “God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water” (Genesis 21:19).
“Open my eyes,” I’ve prayed, “to the well of your provision, to the fountain of Your presence, to the water of sustenance and hope. I want to see the well You have provided in this desert place.”
Because I’m parched and yet I feel like I’m drowning.
It’s so often God’s way to bring water and with it so much more to those in His care.
To Hagar, a well in the desert that she hadn’t seen before.
To Elijah, “bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water” to sustain him on a 40-day walk to the Mountain of God (1 Kings 19:6).
To the Israelites who complained, “there is no water to drink!,” He brought forth water from rock.
For the redeemed, He promises that “water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs” (Isaiah 35:6-7).
To the woman sitting next to a well with a jar on her shoulder, Living Water drawn up even without a bucket (John 4:10).
Out of nothing, amidst wilderness and desert, even burning sand, He brings water that heals, sustains, provides, and gives life eternal. He brings it in abundance with bubbling springs, streams filled so quickly that they are pooling, water we could drink that would satisfy us forever. All out of nothing.
We could spend our lives sitting by clear-running streams of water, never risking the travel through the valley. We could pitch our tents there by the known source of water and never lose sight of the well, never grow uncomfortable, never walk far enough away to be uncertain of provision, never venture one step into the wilderness.
But we’d never make it to the Mountain of God like Elijah and the Israelites. Never know the God Who Sees like Hagar. Never know the Giver of Living Water like the woman at the well.
So, as we scan the horizon and see only barren land, rocks of gray and dusty earth cracked from lack of rain, we search for the well. It’s there. Maybe hidden now so that we cannot see, but God works in the hidden places to bring us provision at the exact moment of our need.
David searched for the well in the desert. He wrote:
“You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water” (Psalm 63:1).
“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” (Psalm 42:1-2)
David, my fellow well-hunter, knew the best way to find the hidden water, even when his soul was downcast, even when he thirsted for God’s presence like a deer dehydrated after too long a journey away from the stream.
- Put your hope in God.
- Praise Him even in sorrow.
- Remember what God has done.
He says: Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. My soul is downcast within me; therefore I will remember you (Psalm 42:5-6).
Years ago, Caedmon’s Call sang these words: “Down in the valley, dying of thirst. Down in the valley, it seems that I’m at my worst. My consolation is that You baptize this earth when I’m down in the valley. Valleys fill first.”
Valleys fill first, my friend. When God brings the water, when He rains down “showers of blessing” in their season (Ezekiel 34:26), the valley is where you will want to be so that you can fully receive all that He pours over your head.
Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer for www.myfrienddebbie.com and worship leader. Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness. To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.