Spiritual Soaking


I'd been crazy busy for awhile, too busy to plant my garden and too busy, even to talk to God. Enough! Life's hectic pace was threatening to knock the last marble of sanity out of my head. I called a time-out.

With my garden trowel and flower seeds in hand, I headed outside to plant my garden and talk with my Father in heaven. The sky was clear except for one lone cloud. I was well into my planting and deep in conversation with God by the time that cloud was overhead.

An extra large drop of rain splashed down in front of me. "Not now," I whined. Of all the places to release its rain, I couldn't believe that cloud chose the one spot on the ground where I was kneeling in the dirt.

One after the other, big splats of rain hit the ground around me, but none of them landed on me. They were spaced so far apart I never got wet. How odd! I leaned back and looked up. The cloud was stationary and I was sitting in one of the spaces between the raindrops. My spirit - which is conscious of things above - was connected. My soul - which is conscious of things around me - was connected. God had gone into the show-and-tell portion of His conversation. I realized that I'd allowed my busy-ness to disconnect me from my Creator.

The raindrops wet the earth where they landed, but not enough to give it the good soaking it needed. There was too much space between them. Talks with God nourish the soil of my soul and my spirit, but they weren't getting the God-soaking they needed. I was leaving too much space between our conversations.

I'm intelligent enough to feed my stomach when it's hungry. Why was I so willing to starve my spirit and my soul?

I need the sacred sustenance I receive from fellowship with God. No one knows me better. No one sees my pain and my joy, my worries and my fears, my efforts, my goals and my dreams as clearly or as intimately as God sees them. No one loves me more.

In times of crisis, I can't run to God quick enough. I rely on the direct line Jesus provides for me, to take the words straight from my lips to God's ears. If I'm so troubled that I can't form the words to convey the weight of my problem, I depend on the Holy Spirit to communicate my need to heaven.

God offers a standing invitation to talk, any time, any place. He won't force Himself into my life. Acceptance of His offer is always up to me. God never changes His mind. When I want to talk, He's there. When I don't want to talk, He's there. I'm the one with fluctuating priorities - what gets tended to, and what is left untended.

I had allowed my busy-ness to interrupt my walk with God. Oh, I still prayed, but it was a busy prayer, usually tacked on to the end of the day. ("Oops! Can't forget to pray!") I still spoke to God, but an occasional word of complaint each day hardly qualified as conversation. ("Lord, if there is one more bend in the road this day, I'm going to poke my own eyes out!") Instead of getting quiet, getting in prayer and getting with God when stress built up, I was letting my drama queen come out and play.

This isn't new territory for me. I've backslid down this hill in the past. The warning signs were all there, touchiness, uneasiness, less joy and more pressure. I was just too busy to take the time to see them. It took one lone cloud, with enough space for me to sit between its raindrops, to remind me that I need to maintain a deep walk with God. My soul becomes parched, my spirit dehydrated, when I walk on my own. All the pieces and parts of my life start bumping into each other. I am living the small story of my life on earth instead of the big story of my life eternal.

Once again, I re-arrange my list of priorities - putting God first. Once again, I am no longer satisfied with a lone burst of fellowship with my Father in heaven. I want to stand in the midst of a downpour, soaked in His love and His guidance.

Now, I pray for no spaces between the raindrops.

2005 Terri McPherson - terri@wisehearts.com

Terri is a devoted follower of Jesus Christ and uses Psalm 19:14 as her guiding Scripture verse when writing. Many of her pieces are written for, and speak to, hurting Christians around the world as well as those believers who need support and encouragement and even a little silliness at times. Terri lives in Windsor, Ontario, Canada with her husband Ray. She is the mother of two adult children and three precious grandchildren. You can read more of Terri's writing on her web site at: www.wisehearts.com

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