I have crossed the barren desert, weathered the blistering heat and frequent storms, felt the burning sands and tasted the dryness within my soul. Now I come finally to the well of fresh, cool, refreshing, life giving water and find I am too parched to drink.
We are to pray without ceasing, as well we should, yet most times lately I cannot. It’s that simple. I just can’t. Oh, I still see God’s hand in so many daily things and I still give thanks for endless showers of blessings. I hear The Voice, feel The Presence and know I am not alone. I ponder on God’s Glory. I am just too parched for proper prayer.
Too long in the desert of life, too dried out by experiences and too withered by emotions, I cannot find the strength to make the prayers. I try. Usually I start my morning thoughts with a heartfelt “This is the day the Lord has made, let me rejoice and be happy in it”. I might end my day with a portion of the Lord’s Prayer. I speak frequently to Him throughout my day. Thanking Him, singing hymns, acknowledging He knows my heart and inviting Him to search my heart and guide my steps, words, deeds, actions all for His glory. I often ponder how His earthly steps led me to where I am now. While my tongue is silent, my thoughts are very mcuh preoccupied with my Lord, Jesus.
But formal prayer? Verbally bowing to speak? Nope–that particular well is dry, caught in a drought. Like the artist who occasionally runs dry with creative juices, there is nothing left within me to prime the well within. The heart is willing, perhaps not enough so. The mind is to the point of numbness now, numbed by years of Life Stuff. The final straw has snapped the camel’s back and the camel can cross the desert no more and has. metaphorically speaking. fallen in its steps. Like my prayer life.
My steps do not travel the daily, disiplined formal prayer walk. Instead, they take the direction of the broken backed camel–irregular, multi directional, stumbling and sometimes staggering.
So standing at the well, too parched to drink, what should I do now?
Not much. Rest, casting my burdens to the cross. Rest some more, taking a lighter yoke. Eat of the body and drink of the blood. Rest even more, taking in scriptures at every chance. Pray without ceasing. Partial fragments, single words, sometimes a word cried out from an overwhelmed soul and tear choked heart. But pray nonetheless, taking that tentative, weary sip of Life Giving water. Sip by little sip, healing will enter this parched, dried out, withered heart. Healing wil enter this worn out, betraying body. In time. I know this. I believe this. I accept this truth.