August 16, 2023
Spring
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I have always thought of spring as a season. The grass comes back, the trees wake up, and everybody is suddenly in a better mood.
But there’s another kind of spring, and it’s the one I can’t stop thinking about. A spring is where water comes up out of the ground all by itself. Nobody pumps it. Nobody carries it in. It’s just there, coming up from somewhere deeper than you can see.
I’ve spent a lot of years carrying water. Working harder, planning better, trying to manufacture my own rest. Take the vacation, come home tired. Buy the thing, feel good for a week. It’s like hauling buckets up a hill and wondering why I’m always thirsty.
A spring doesn’t work like that. You don’t make it. You find it. And once you find it, it doesn’t run out because you had a bad week.
Isaiah says God will open fountains in the midst of the valleys. Not up top, where things are going well. In the valley. That gets me every time, because the valley is exactly where I assume there is nothing.
SPRING is that moment. The first water after a long dry stretch. I wanted it to feel like something coming back to life, quietly, before anyone else has noticed.
Maybe you’re in a winter right now. It doesn’t last. Find the spring that never runs dry.