It rained hard where I live. We’d not seen rain in nearly 3 weeks. The ground was dusty and cracking open in places. And I felt a little of that within. Farmers were looking to the sky from their Spring fields. I had planted something of my own and had been trying to absorb spiritually and mentally what I needed to keep up with the new endeavor I had launched. Dryness can creep in gradually until you feel that clearing of the throat repeatedly and you know. You know you’re not getting what you need. All the usual effective habits of prayer or community have switched themselves off and you can hear Elijah beside you in the desert saying, “I’m the last one, Lord! And I won’t last long!” And God says, “Eat and sleep and trust.”
A sense of urgency flashes in moments, and I start to remember when this has happened before – when I was led around a bend to some place I didn’t expect and my weakness there was apparent. We’d rather be strong, feel capable, look professional. But now in moments in a new place, God reveals just how small we are. And we wait, realizing. And we eat, sleep, and trust there because we’ve seen His goodness before in places like this one.
Nearly 2 inches in a day left water standing, loose soil washed away, and rivers high. But it rained! Farmers were relieved, and it was on those rainy days, that my heart realized the lesson of this place.
God’s promises aren’t needed in the rain, but in the dry places. That’s where we choose again what we believe – where the fields and the bones are dry. Walking the new path, I found myself standing with friends recently where I was to speak. I wasn’t usually unsure in the waiting, but this time was different. Prior to this day, adequate preparation and just showing up was enough. God would make it work, bringing the message out of me, like He was pulling on ribbons of truth and wrapping them around the women in the room. I loved watching Him do that.
But this time was different. In the moments before walking to the podium, I saw rain pouring down on me and around me. Silver threads of droplets falling softly, like Heaven was pouring blessing down. I held out my hands to receive it and saw the Lord come and hug me in close, warm, covered. In a moment, He can take you from where you stand all dusty and lead you beside still waters and restore your soul.
When I took my place, my words tumbled and tangled some and I struggled through to the end in my attempt to be faithful. Then the women came for prayer and I knew that even in my weakness, my smallness, that He comes and does what only He can do anyway.
In the days since, I read how a great evangelist would hold back on his natural talent when speaking to a group just to make sure God was in it. He wanted the supernatural, spirit connection to flow from God to those who had come hungry. And I heard the Lord ask me, “Did I say my strength was made perfect in polished speaking? Or that my strength was made perfect in talent? No, dear one, my strength is made perfect in your weakness! That’s when I am seen.”
“And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work” (2 Cor 9:8).
My calling obviously exceeds my ability, and that is the way I want it to be. I want to show up in who I really am, just a girl with some truth to share, and watch God do amazing things so that I am awed by Him over and over again.
If you are in a climb in your spiritual journey where you know He is leading, but the way is hard, remember this…
It’s good to be learning to understand and rely on Grace! Therein is our strength – in what only God can provide. There is no pressure in Grace.
And there is more resting here than we think. Yes, we are the physical feet walking this ground, but it is the Spirit of God who leads and provides, and gives breath after breath, and takes us from glory to glory!
He is El Shaddai – All Mighty God! And He is our Daddy, faithful and strong. Let Him lead – it’s the only way to dance in this adventure!
Love & Grace,
From the desk by the window on a sunny day where the grass is green.
(c) Sozo Life & Leadership, Robin L. Lewis, May 19, 2014