My friends from the north of France and Luxembourg probably think that the Texas heat finally fried my brains. “David, no one griped more than you about the rain and the gray, overcast skies in Reims and Paris. Now you’re rejoicing. Call the ambulance! David needs help. He’s gone over the edge.”
I know. I know. It’s just that this area is experiencing one of the worst droughts in the last 50 years. Add to that we’re approaching 70 days of 100 degree heat or more so far this summer and the arid earth itself seemed to cry out for rain.
And there it was. Water puddles on the sidewalk. The parched grass was wet. Clouds ruled the sky and I wondered if I should walk. It might rain again. Yes!
Recently, I was at a church where the pastor told the people that they were going to invite other churches and turn their Sunday night meeting into a prayer meeting for rain. “Good idea,” I thought. (A side note: they did it and a television station showed up unexpectedly. The small church’s prayer meeting ended up on the evening news!)
But, I couldn’t help asking myself, “Am I as hungry for the rain of God in my soul as I am for the physical rain to fall on the scorched earth?”
I don’t know about you but sometimes it gets dry in my heart. Oh, if you see me you couldn’t tell much difference. In those times I mostly do what I always do–still pray, still read the Word, still show up to preach, still sense God’s hand on what I’m doing and saying but …
What seems to be missing is closeness, intimacy with God.
The same reason that so many marriages end up in the ditch is the very reason many Christians lose their passion for the Lord: intimacy slips away because we get so busy with other things. We still do all the right things but it doesn’t seem to give the same result because our hearts aren’t in it as before.
The amount of joy and fulfillment that you receive from something is directly related to the percentage of your heart that you invest in it–that goes for your relationship with God, with your wife or husband, your job, your life.
So, how do you change?
First, look around and see the dryness. The Church in Laodicea thought they were well-watered but listen: “I know you inside and out, and find little to my liking. You’re not cold, you’re not hot—far better to be either cold or hot! You’re stale. You’re stagnant. You make me want to vomit. You brag, ‘I’m rich, I’ve got it made, I need nothing from anyone,’ oblivious that in fact you’re a pitiful, blind beggar, threadbare and homeless.” (Rev. 3:15-17, the Message)
Second, begin to hunger for something more and let your hunger move you towards a solution. “AS THE hart pants and longs for the water brooks, so I pant and long for You, O God.” (Ps. 42:1, Amplified)
Third … third?
You know what? I’d love to hear what you do in times when you feel dry and thirsty. The third action will come from you. Send me what you’ve learned from God through the Word and through living about how to receive “rain” when you need it. I’ll put the responses in Coffee Stains.
Hmmm…
“If a commission by an earthly king is considered an honor, how can a commission by a Heavenly King be considered a sacrifice?” — David Livingstone
photo: © Monia – Fotolia.com