I was reading some of my old posts, some of those posts from the summer I met Daniel, when I was steeping in 1 John and dealing with idols and having my love transformed.
It made me ache. A hollow sort of ache. A how-have-I-lost, what-have-I-lost, where-have-I-gone sort of ache.
I miss seeing God on the pages of Scripture, miss hearing His voice as I read. I miss the intense focused dependence, the desperate knowledge that I needed God above anything else.
What was a flowing fountain has become a stagnant pool, but how did it get here and how can I restore this sullied spring?
I need Elisha’s salt to heal the waters of my heart, so that they would no longer cause death or miscarriage (2 Kings 2:19-22). But where is such salt to be found? Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah, who brings life to dead bones?
I need the water that in me becomes a a spring of water welling up to eternal life (John 4:14).
So I come to the one who promises drink, the one who promises to cause my heart to flow out with rivers of living water.
I declare that I believe, help my unbelief.
“On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, ‘If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, “Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.”‘ Now this he said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive, for as yet the Spirit had not been given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.”
~John 7:37-39 (ESV)