Well if I was thirsty before I read this passage, I certainly am no longer. Just as Lenten lectionary readings are loaded with images of food to feed us in our fast, so also we receive the living waters of God in our desert sojourn. We are overwhelmed with historical images of seas and awash in the new watercourses that refresh the whole of creation including us, God's chosen people.
As I sit with these bold words, I am wondering what it means to be dry. We talk about that in faith-speak sometimes. There are desert times and there are times of lush growth. There are mountain peaks, valleys, and level plains. What does the dry, level plain look like for me?
When I look back on my life, I would have to say it's NOT been those times of tragedy or struggle or loss. Those times have been fruitful despite their challenges. When I've faced the suffering of other people, I again would say those times are awash in God's presence. That is after all the point of the Incarnation -- Christ in the suffering flesh. And there have been too obvious times of new life. I guess I would have to say then that to be dry is to be disengaged. I find myself thirsty when I am isolated from real life, the real life that is moving or hurting, or honest and charged. When daily living starts to look all the same, when I no longer really know people, when I think no new thoughts or miss the extraordinary details of each day, life is dry. And that's kind of inevitable. If it weren't, we wouldn't need Isaiah.
I know Lent is suppose to be a desert time full of fasting and discipline and simplicity and forgiveness. Desert is may be, but dry? I'm not so sure.
Reflection
- When do you feel spiritually dry?
- What helps to refresh you?
Prayer
Holy One, you renew us with fresh streams in the wilderness. You provide for our wandering souls and set the track toward our home, you Son, our God, Amen
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