This morning, baby Brook, the six month old that I watch, came over bright and early at 6 a.m. He seemed content to play with some toys on the floor so I brewed a cup of coffee and decided to snuggle up in the big chair in my living room. At first, I reached for one of the books I’m slowly reading through, but at the last second my hand made a quick right hand turn and landed on my Bible instead.
Sometimes it’s hard to pray, but this morning as I read my Bible and began to pray, the Spirit came like a gentle flood. At first I was unaware, but as I continued, the water bubbled up, covering my toes then up to my knees and soon I was immersed. The living water seeped into my pores, like it knew where to go and it sought out the places that needed God.
Of course, I’m speaking figuratively. If my living room had actually flooded I would have been screaming in horror, but there are not literal ways accurate enough nor beautiful enough to describe what it’s like when the Spirit of God feels so close, so real.
Sometimes I feel like a lost cause. A lot of times like I’m not living up to my potential. But if I look back on my life, in every cold place or season of new blooms, I can see the arrows, they are everywhere, pointing me on toward Jesus. The fact that I am who I am right now is in itself a miracle. The fact that my life isn’t still a heaping pile of regrets and sadness is a miracle. My life is a miracle. And I know the arrows won’t stop.
The Spirit came like a gentle flood. The living water seeped into my pores, like it knew where to go and it sought out the places that needed God.