Springs in the Midst of the Valleys
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Isaiah 41:18 NASB
I will open rivers on the bare heights
And springs in the midst of the valleys;
I will make the wilderness a pool of water
And the dry land fountains of water.
A time of spiritual discomfort or struggle is often referred to as “being in the desert.” It’s a time when you might feel kind of disconnected from or dissatisfied with God, with your life, with the capacity of your faith to uplift and sustain you through a given time or situation. I think of the Israelites in their quest for the Promised Land, roaming through the desert for forty years. We know they questioned and balked and protested and rebelled at many points along the way. They were literally in a desert, and God placed them in a spiritual desert as well, to prepare them for the future.
It certainly didn’t feel like a reason to rejoice, or celebrate in the midst of their journey. They didn’t have the ability or the desire to see the bigger picture of their lives – or of creation and God’s plan for it, let alone their own part in the plan. They viewed their day to day drudgery as just that:
their day to day drudgery. Rather than thank God for doing the refining, preparing, deep and intentional work within them that He knew they needed, they complained, often, about everything. I don’t blame them, really. Life must have been excruciatingly difficult for them.
My life, on the other hand is amazingly blessed. So what is my excuse? At 4:00 this morning I felt like I was smack in the middle of a desert of doubt, uncertainty, distress, indecision and all the other ‘un’ and ‘in’ words you can think of. I don’t like choices—what if it I make the wrong one? What if something better comes along? What if this turns out to be a disaster? What if . . .? What if . . . And how about . . .? I finally went back to bed about 6:30, thankful that I had a very rare day which didn’t demand I be up and off and running by dawn.
None of us like to be in the desert. We don’t like God to do that deep refining work that must be done if we are to approach the perfection for which we strive. It is not easy. It is not fun. It is challenging to be thankful – at least for most of us. I do know of a few rare souls who remain hopeful and grateful through even tremendous adversity in their lives. I am not there yet. I hope to be someday soon.
In this passage, God assures Isaiah that even when we are in the desert, He will provide for us. When we feel spent and spiritually exhausted, God will nourish and sustain us. He provided manna in the desert for the Israelites. We have an even greater gift in Jesus Christ. God in human form experienced everything we do. He felt pain and joy. He grieved and sang. He doubted and questioned. But in the end He obeyed. That gives me great hope that I will get to heaven. God allows us to be like Christ in every way – human and divine. That is a part of the gift we forget about sometimes—that God became man.
The human God, in the person of Christ, allows us intimate contact with the divine God in heaven. That intimacy is a remarkable, unspeakable gift. All this talk about the desert reminds me of that poem,
Footprints. When there was only one set of prints in the sand, it was because God was carrying us.
My prayer today is that whether you are in a desert or an oasis, you remember that God knows your heart. And that you give thanks, even for the refiner’s fire.
Mary
