Jesus said, “If they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.” (Luke 19:40, NIV).
I read my daughter’s blog this week.
She is a prolific and profound writer.
(Visit her blog @ www.ancientstillness.blogspot.com, and when you do read: The Rock’s Cry).
Her refrain of “holy, holy, holy” has reverberated in my thoughts all week.
I cannot keep quiet. I can not be silent. My heart is too full, and Jesus also said that out of the overflow of the heart does the mouth speak.”(Luke 6:45, NIV)
My heart is speaking.
Not long ago the jar of me was empty—
dry as dust.
Moisture did not cling to my earthen walls;
it was absorbed too quickly.
Drought had shriveled my soul.
I was dying of thirst.
I had forgotten the taste of fresh water.
With David I thought my tongue would stick to the roof of my mouth.
I had continued to return to a well gone dry,
to a shallow, stagnant cistern.
I had been strapped to the back of a heaving, lumbering camel, and I was wandering through the desert.
This was a dire and urgent sojourn.
I was meandering in circles in this vast, unyielding place.
I wasn’t aware that if you didn’t have a focal point in this harsh place—that no matter how straight of a path you tried to walk—your path would ever circle. Your dominant leg would lead you; my right leg led me clockwise rather than straight.
But my Father heard my cries.
He heard my silent voice.
He told me to look up.
And I did.
I didn’t understand that my path was starting to straighten.
I just simply kept looking up instead of in,
Out to him instead of inward toward myself.
I could smell the water before I actually saw it.
I could feel the moisture in the air on my parched skin.
I could hear the faint gurgle of the springs.
I found myself on the edge of an oasis.
I was too amazed to remind myself I could go into the interior—I was too enthralled with the abundance of what was available on the periphery.
So, I pitched my tent and camped there for a while. (I didn’t even bother to tether my camel. He would come back if I needed him.)
One morning I woke and found I was full.
And that would have been enough.
But, you see, our God isn’t just about enough. He extends generosity with abundance and bounty. He causes people to fill up and spill over. He creates excessive overflow. He gives with lavishness and extravagance. His goal is to bring his people to a point of more than enough.
My God brought me deep into his oasis—I have been brought into his place of plenty.
It is a place of water, and light, and of palm trees.
I understand the beauty and value of this place of overflow because I have experienced seasons of drought.
Oh! How I want others to know this vast richness of his grace.
How I long for the overflow to rush over those near me.
I am on holy ground.
My shoes need to be removed.
I need to be facedown.
My heart is speaking.
I cannot be silent.