Parched

Before my morning walk I guzzle 16 ounces of water, trying to adequately hydrate before walking in the heat. On this 20^th day of July, we’ve already had more than 20 days of 100 degree or higher heat. Even though much of my walk is shaded, I slather on sunscreen and head out the door. Walking on the nature trails is relatively cool—the trees’ dappled shade provides a respite from the sun’s merciless heat.

As I walk, I notice the plant life around me. The trees still stretch their leafy canopies over the pathway, but signs of stress abound. Patches of yellow dot the overhead branches, and dry, brown, crunchy leaves litter my walk. Even though their roots reach deep underground, the trees struggle to find water in the unending heat and drought. Other than a brief sprinkle yesterday, I can’t remember the last time it rained.

The undergrowth shows evidence of the hot and dry conditions. Some of the once deep-green grasses have faded to pale, washed-out green. Those are the fortunate plants. Most are now brown and dried; the ones near the path crunch and crumble beneath my feet, becoming one with the dirt path.

When I reach the cement bridge over the little stream, I notice the creek has shrunk to half its normal size. Gone are the bubbling waters cascading over the rocks. Now the stream moves sluggishly along its path, exposing half of its muddy bed. Surely everything around me is parched and cries out for water. All the life around me waits for life-giving rain.

As I head toward home, I feel sweat dripping onto my neck. I too am parched and anxious to drink more water. Even though I stopped at a water fountain halfway through my walk, my mouth is dry and my thirst urges my feet to move quickly toward home and water. Unlike the forest plants and trees, I can turn on the faucet and quench my thirst whenever I choose. Nature must wait for rain.

So if I can quench my thirst whenever I want, why do I allow my soul to become dry? I can drink deeply from spiritual waters as often and as much as I please. Why do I allow my spirit to become thirsty? Just as I must replenish the water lost while walking, I must replenish my soul with Christ’s living water and not allow my soul to be parched.

Father, remind me to drink deeply and often from your living spiritual water.

Psalm 107:8 & 9 “Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for men, for he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.”

The Sycamore

The old sycamore leans precariously over the creek, its top branches reaching far across to the other side of the meandering four-foot-wide stream. The root system, partially exposed, clings tenaciously to the bank of the stream, like fingers clawing into the soil, desperate for a hold in the earth, lest the white-barked tree topple. The gnarled finger-like roots reach deep into the soil, drawing up water. The life-giving water courses through the tree’s circulatory system, sustaining its vigor.

Like the tree, all living organisms require water for life. Without it, plants quickly shrivel and turn brown. Humans require water every day to stay healthy. Dehydration causes a wide range of problems, from dry, cracked skin to hallucinations and seizures. Without water, a human will die in a matter of days.

Jesus said, “I am the living water.” Of course, He referred to spiritual water, not physical. What happens to our souls when they don’t receive frequent spiritual nourishment? Without God’s living water, we perceive the world through earthly eyes. Our connections with God shrivel and the fruits of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control, no longer thrive. In order to thrive spiritually, we must, like the gnarled roots of the old sycamore tree, cling to the spirit that nourishes our souls, drawing deeply from God’s living water.

Father, give me a thirst for your living water and teach me to drink deeply, and often.

Jeremiah 17:8 “He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.”