Psalm 42:1-5 2 Just like a deer that craves streams of water, my whole being[c] craves you, God. 2 My whole being thirsts for God, for the living God. When will I come and see God’s face? 3 My tears have been my food both day and night, as people constantly questioned me, “Where’s your God now?” 4 But I remember these things as I bare my soul: how I made my way to the mighty one’s abode, to God’s own house, with joyous shouts and thanksgiving songs—a huge crowd celebrating the festival! 5 Why, I ask myself, are you so depressed? Why are you so upset inside? Hope in God! Because I will again give him thanks, my saving presence and my God. (CEB)
[Scripture taken from the Common English Bible®, CEB® Copyright © 2010, 2011 by Common English Bible.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.]
A cold drink of water
on a hot day
I long for that same refreshment
quench my thirst,
satiate my hunger.
to have God
physically present to me.
I want to
walk with God in the garden
“while the dew is still on the roses.”
Yeshua to stand at the foot of my bed
and waken me in the middle of the night.
the gifts of the Spirit
to rattle through my bones and enliven me.
It is not about me!
in some strange way
it is about me…
that unheard inner calling
that persistent nudging…
keeps finding me
keeps hounding me
and I try to run away…
“I FLED Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
More instant than the Feet —
Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me.’”
[from Francis Thompson’s “The Hound of Heaven”]
I can keep running until
my legs cramp
my lungs burn
my runner’s high evaporates
until I hit the wall;
then I can
give up and face the metaphoric death
of spiritual hunger
of drying up and blowing away
give in to the persistent insistence
in the name of God.
When I listen
the “It’s about me”
becomes “It’s about the others”
becomes giving pieces of “me”
giving that with which I have been gifted
giving from ‘my’ abundance
giving from my self
becomes the simple gift of sharing self
solidarity with those in need
The spookiness of this giving
is that the more I give
the more I have to give
such giving does not deplete me
but helps me grow and mature.
So, I rejoice!