This blog is designed to create community for believers and provide support for seekers. I encourage all readers to share their faith in an effort to lift and encourage one another.
In August the hot sun scorches the earth. The brittle grass browns and breaks. Moisture-starved leaves yellow and flutter to the ground. The baked earth, cracked in every direction, cries for rain. Insects buzz in erratic dances—nothing else moves. The stifling heat rises in nearly invisible waves.
Safe in her thicket, the deer stirs. Hot and parched, she must drink. Gingerly, she ventures to the brook to quench her thirst. Frequently, she pauses to sniff the air, sensing wolves and other predators lurking nearby, eager to taste her flesh. They too must drink, so her danger heightens as she nears the life-giving water. In spite of the danger, her extreme thirst drives her to the stream, for she pants for water. She mustdrink.
On a hot summer’s day, we guzzle glass after glass of cold, refreshing water, attempting to slake our thirst. If our souls truly pant for God the way the deer pants for water, what would we do?
O God, give me a thirst for you. Make the thirst in me so strong I must satisfy it. Give me the discipline to drink deeply at your never-ending stream.
Psalms 42:1&2 “As the deer pants for the water brooks, so pants my soul for You, O God.
“As for His failing you, never dream of it — hate the thought of it. The God who has been sufficient until now, should be trusted to the end.”
― Charles H. Spurgeon
Thank you, Lord, for your faithfulness. Even when the world seems out of control, keeping me trusting in You, for You are as faithful as the rising and setting of the sun. You are in control.
One summer Scott and I flew to San Diego to visit our cousin Zelda. While there, we spent some time at the Pacific Ocean’s shore. Just standing at a very small edge of this huge body of water was awe-inspiring. Looking outward from my vantage point on the sand, I could not imagine the immensity of this vast body of water, stretching for thousands of miles in every direction. I spent some time wandering along the shore, always looking out to the water. The waves never ceased. Constantly they rushed the beach, always the same, yet always different. They followed one another, curling and rolling, white spray flying high. White gulls skimmed the water’s surface, diving into the tops of the waves to capture fish for breakfast. Each wave must have contained thousands of gallons of moving, roiling, rushing water. Their strength amazed me. Even when I stood ankle deep at the very edge of this ocean, the waves, running to the shore and then back home, pulled at me, nearly knocking me off my feet. “Come out into the deep,” they seemed to say. The locals said, “Always face the waves.” I learned to keep my eyes on the waves and never underestimate their power.
I tried to discern a pattern in the way the waves ran at the beach, but the variety was endless. They came in intervals—for a time many smaller waves hit the beach, then bigger waves—wave after wave—pounded the shore, rolling, breaking, rushing to the sands, and then retreating. The sound of the waves was astounding. Right at my feet was always the soft, sibilant sound of waves running at the beach, scrubbing the sand, then running back home, pulled by the ocean as a small child runs back to her mother and father. But farther out, where the waves curled on themselves and broke, the waters boomed and roared, boomed and roared. Even from a half mile away their crashing noise echoed. I closed my eyes and soaked in the sounds of this majestic ocean. The early morning air was cool, and I basked in the amazing experience, wishing I could stay longer. I stood, I looked, I listened, trying to absorb it all.
It occurred to me that the incredible beauty, immensity, and power of the ocean are, on a small scale, a reflection of our miraculous God. When I stood on the beach and gazed at the ocean, it seemed so enormous, yet I viewed only an infinitesimal portion of this massive body of water.
So it is with God. We are privileged at times to catch glimpses of God’s immensity, but we see only a small portion. We glimpse His power, yet we experience just a tiny glimpse of His majesty. In Isaiah 45:15, we read, “Truly you are a God who hides himself, O God and Savior of Israel.” Paul reminds us how little we know of our awesome God in I Corinthians 13:12. “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”
God, thank you for the tangible reminders of Your greatness. “The seas have lifted up, O LORD, the seas have lifted up their voice; the seas have lifted up their pounding waves. Mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea—the LORD on high is mighty.” Psalms 93:3-4
“Life is an opportunity, benefit from it. Life is beauty, admire it. Life is a dream, realize it.”
Thank you Father, for the opportunity to be your child and to bask in your love. Thank you for the beauty all around us, so beautiful it can take our breath away.
Matthew 18: 19-20 “Again, I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.”
Lord, I thank you for the friends and family who join me in worshipping you and who seek to understand you will. Together, we can utilize your strength and wisdom for good.
The little soul lived for many years in the same woods. The sun shone on her leafy branches, and she produced much fruit. After many years the trees around this soul grew and their branches met above her head. Those branches provided comfortable shade. She was content in the place she’d always grown. She knew every plant in the woods.
After a time, the little soul felt discontent. When a storm raged overhead, the towering branches swayed and clashed together. Sometimes huge branches broke off the trees and crashed to the forest floor, clipping her own branches. On sunny days, she never saw the sun, for the shade had grown too deep. After a time, the little soul realized she was not being fed; she was no longer growing. She no longer felt the sun’s rays stimulating growth. Even though she was content in her comfortable shady woods, she was hungry. Her leaves drooped. Her fruit dried up and dropped to the ground. She no longer produced new fruit. She had become stagnant.
She pondered her situation. The woods were dark, deep, and comfortable. She wanted to stay, but she longed to grow and once again bear fruit.
After much thought, she made her decision. With great effort and great sadness, she pulled her roots out of the familiar soil and moved from her shady spot. She traveled to another, less familiar location. Here she lived with strangers. Here she was the outsider. Here the summer was harsh and hot with the unfamiliar and the new. But she planted her roots in the sunny spot where she knew she’d appease her hunger. She longed for the challenge of new growth. She looked up at the sun, lifted her branches heavenward, sighed as the breeze rustled through her leaves, and grew once again.
Growing Our Faith Together 