Dear Dry Places,
I haven't always been aware of your deserted space in my life. I wasn't always aware that you could be transformed into a promised land. Perhaps it was because I was busy trying to fill you with all of the things and people I thought would make me feel better instead of what would sustain and encourage life. I based my existence on fleeting emotions and not on what I needed. And here I am.
Perhaps I didn't recognize my emptiness at all. I was too focused on feeling to really analyze the intricate parts of me, the parts that were crying out for reunion with my Creator and Purpose. I was too obsessed with being 'loved'. I was too bent on being liked, appreciated, praised. I wanted to feel worthy of something...anything.
I'll admit, dry places, that little effort was needed on your part. It was all me - thirsting but denying myself the latter rain. I didn't want that. I wanted affection that I could see and touch. I wanted to hear it. I wanted to be able to embrace it at night.
I wanted physical security. So I clung to a wilderness when He was offering me an oasis.
And I look around now, my lips broken with the heat of a thousand suns, my tongue swollen with thirst, and I think, "What was this all for?"
You see, dry places, I made myself beautiful for you. I swept my heart clean and prepared for you. I thought everything good would just come to me of its own free will.
I was wrong.
Making space without being intentional about what fills it is only ever a recipe for a natural disaster. A perfect and devastating storm. And so, here I am, near death, because I decided to try to cure my drought my own way. And I've only made things worse. I've only invited the sun and sent away the rain.
So, dry places, now that I recognize where I wandered off my path - I'm gathering what strength I can muster and asking heaven to meet me where I fell.
Because the truth is, I've always known my God's power. I just wasn't always sure He would release it for me. You feel that way when you think you've gone too far.
The best thing about Him is that as He approaches to lift me up, He is commanding the rain to fall. For me.
Dry places, you are being replaced. What was once dry and dead will now be fertile and fruitful. Where I once stumbled, I won't even break my stride. And am nothing but better for the experience.