I love this little plant.
I've had it for years.
It looks half dead. And it's pretty small.
It should be lush, and full. And overflowing its little pot.
But I forget to water it. Most of the time.
So instead of getting long, slow drinks of life-giving water, it gets a dribble here, a dribble there, a deluge if I'm really thinking about it. It's been chewed on by the cat more than a few times. And yet, this little plant carries on. It basks in the sun. And it tries to grow. Just as a new branch sprouts, an old one dies, because this plant needs a drink. It doesn't ask for much. A drink of water is all it needs from me.
It would be a beautiful plant. If only I gave it enough water to drink.
Aren't we thirsty? Aren't we starving for God's Word? But rather than take big long drinks and getting my fill, I find myself getting a dribble here, a dribble there, and a deluge if the guilt of not having a disciplined devotional time overtakes me. And I get chewed on by life, scalded, and parched, and yet I limp along when I know that all I need is a drink. I feel half-dead at times, burned out, and worn, with my spiritual limbs falling down and my roots barely clinging to the dried out soil. But all I need is a drink.
A long, slow drink in God's Word.
I love this little plant.
I think I'll give it a drink.
And maybe I'll take one, too. A nice, long, slow drink.
Psalm 23
A psalm of David.
1 The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
3 he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,[a]
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.
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