It does seem, lately, that there may be some water after all. I open my mouth wide for that one, precious drop. Drip. Let it slide on down my throat. Eyes closed in this. Simple gratitude. And I begin to wonder, "Is the Lord really doing something?" I shake my head no.
But there it is. Another drop. Drip. Cool. Small but quenching. These other voices raised with mine crying out for something more. Our lips all turned up and opened to it. Dying of thirst for more of this Jesus, more of His life in us, more of His power in us, and more of His hand smothering out the darkness in us. All this fear. All this fake.
Our heads tip back and our mouths open wide. Waiting. For Elijah's cloud? We pile on our knees in weakness so that He will make us strong. We open the book and cry out to the One Who wrote it. We risk it all and bare our souls because we are tired of walking alone. We set out to discover what it means to be in intimate fellowship with Jesus and with each other. We say "NO." to Satan. We dare to believe that we will not die of thirst in this land. That a rain is coming. And that it begins with one drop.
Drip,
Bernadette
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