They wait. People of the “desert.” The ones beyond the
right words to say. Beyond our ability to grow green
again. People, places, and situations become dry. It is easier
to abandon them to the desert. It seems a less embarrassing
thing to do.
These are not waiting for the “annual rain.” They are
used to the quick fixes that have come and gone with the
first hot wind. They endure the promises of those who do
not know the desert. It has become easier to expect burning
sand instead of water and to know the company of jackals.
Stoicism hurts less. Hope has become brown and dry.
Then God comes. Nothing God touches can remain the
same. It is not a flash greening. It is a deep-down watering,
which permeates the core of being. It is the restoration of
ground water, not seeping but flowing in a current so that
all life is changed. Roots begin to grow deeper. Stoicism
turns to hope. Once hope has rooted, joy appears.
Gradually, the wilderness is greening. Pools of water
appear where sand burned weary feet. Water rushes over
stones that knew only wind. Jackals seek out other deserts.
The eyes of the blind are opened. Some receive their
sight, but all see. The ears of the deaf are unstopped. Some
catch the rush of water, but all hear. Spirits long dry begin
to feel, for whatever God touches is changed.
We have waited for God, not really expecting an appearance.
And God has come.
By Ray Buckley from The Upper Room: 60 Days of Prayer for General Conference 2016