Water is powerful. We all know that.
It’s an instrument of life and of death — at the same time a basic necessity and an imposing threat.
Water can restore an entire parched nation, or destroy that nation with a single monster wave.
But what can one drop of water do?
Here’s an interesting thing about water. One drop by itself is small and seemingly insignificant — a sparkle of dew evaporating moments after it meets the sun. But what is a tsunami if not a multitude of single drops united and moving in one direction?
I’ve been absent from this space for a month and a half — not because I didn’t want to be here, but because I’ve needed to be elsewhere. And I realize now that God has been teaching me the unspeakable joy of sinking into His purposes and disappearing into His life-giving flood.
Remember that virtual baby shower I invited you to for Zhanna, my lovely friend in Kazakhstan? You came, and you invited your friends to come, and drop added to drop until a stream of generosity splashed happily into the hearts and hands of a precious family.
Friends, we did it. We and God-only-knows who else, like a gentle, relentless rain. We each gave our little bit to God, and He gave those twin baby girls their very own bedroom.
Here’s what Zhanna wrote in a letter to their ministry supporters. (Imagine her musical Russian accent behind these words):
“Our family expect two baby girls! It was real surprise and miracle from our LOVELY FATHER! When we have known about it, we were worried about so many question, especially about the place where we will live with such a big family! We have little apartment and it is not enough for all of us. Finally God gave us such a great friends, who collect money for us and support us, that it gave us opportunity to rent bigger apartment and moved there. Some people will rent our apartment, they will pay to us, we will add little more money and will pay for our new apartment. Thanks to God and to Friends!
In a private message for those who gave she wrote, “Thank you so much, God cares through you about us so much! We feel His Love, Miracles, and Mercy through you! You are real our family!”
And she’s right. We are real family. We’re meant to belong to each other, not to compete. We’re better, stronger, more beautiful when we pour out together — a river of life buoying the weak, refreshing the weary, and finding our own deepest delight as we disappear into His higher purposes. I love the way the Water Song from Hinds Feet on High Places puts it: Oh, what a joy it is to race, to find the lowest place.
So, it seems lately, in multiple ways, God has enlisted me in this race to the lowest place, and I’m finding it’s the happiest place to be. There are more stories I’d love to tell you . . .
- About the Arts Aftercare Training held in Dallas earlier this month and the delightful privilege of working behind the scenes there, washing the beautiful feet of those who minister to survivors of human trafficking and severe trauma all over the world.
- About meeting Ruba Abbassi and learning about her ministry to Arab women and Syrian refugees in Jordan, hushed to be in the presence of a small, surrendered one God is using to change the world.
- About the sweet stirrings in my heart, not to aspire to the pampered life of a fancy vessel set on a pedestal, but to be like those rough and ordinary water jars at the wedding in Cana, standing at the ready for Jesus to fill and empty again and again — adding my one drop to the many, together brimming over — enough for Christ to transform into a river of the very best wine.
Oh, how the world needs to taste this grace.
We have a choice. We can insist on being a solitary drop, sparkling for an instant, and then gone. Or we can sink into the ocean of His love, swept up into divine purposes, dissolving into the great compelling of God. It means letting go. It means complete surrender. No stipulations. No restrictions. No anchor wedged in selfish ambitions. Only the hilarious yes as we plunge into a rollicking flood of amazing grace, bowing to His will, and watching the desert blossom in our wake.
Friends, I’m all in. Wanna come?
* * *
I may be the worst “blogger” in the world.
To all who’ve stuck with me, thank you for your patience.
I really do love you and miss interacting with you,
even if my reasons for absence are happy ones.
I do hope to blog more often. There are still God-sized,
water-into-wine stories from Kazakhstan
I haven’t yet wrapped in words.
Those and others are begging to be told.
To those of you in The High Calling community,
I’ve registered for the retreat in November.
Can’t wait to finally meet some of you face to face.