When you pass through the waters I will be with you. (Isaiah 43:2)
In 1995 I toured Israel with a group of fellow students from Patten University, my alma mater. One of the most memorable experiences I had there was in the wilderness of En Gedi, where David hid out from Saul.
We hiked for 45 minutes into this barren wilderness, with the sun beating down on us with such intensity that some of us began to (literally) despair even of life. Our water bottles were empty, our mouths were dry, our muscles were tired and sore, and our strength was ebbing away.
Then, suddenly, we rounded a corner and came upon a beautiful waterfall of fresh water. We immediately disrobed down to our swimwear and dove into the pool. We drank from the waterfall, refilled our water bottles, and played for a good while.
Then the tour guide announced that it was time to leave, and as we gathered our belongings and started out, we realized that he was not leading us out the same way he had led us in. The way in was arid and dry, but on the way out, he led us through the stream that had been created by the waterfall. We walked right through the center of that stream, keeping our feet submersed under its’ waters, for about fifteen minutes. And then, suddenly, the stream disappeared under a rock and went underground.
We still had another thirty minute hike ahead of us, and by the time we arrived back at our point of departure, our clothes were completely dry, our water bottles empty, and our bodies sore and tired. I was one of the first to get back on the bus.
As I took my seat, I noticed a group of deer – about three of four – congregating around a particular spot. They seemed thirsty, desperate . . . their tongues protruded from their mouths, and they were panting and scratching at the earth with their hooves.
I asked the tour guide what was happening, and he explained that the stream that we had walked through was now six feet under the ground. Those deer were able to smell that vein of water under the earth, but they couldn’t get to it.
I nearly exploded inside! I was looking at Psalm 42, right before my eyes!
As the deer pants for the water brooks, so my soul pants for you, O God.
We had walked through the stream that they panted for. They were desperate for something that we took for granted.
There are seasons in our lives in which God allows us to walk through streams of living water with him, and there are times in which we pant for those streams. We must learn never to take the presence of the Lord for granted. And we must learn, as poet Randall Vandermey once wrote, how to bring back “the brimming cup from the parched land” so that those who pant may “tremble in thanksgiving . . . like the deer.”
Share your thoughts:
How long has it been since you walked in the river?
