Living in the Rain Shadow
There used to be a dialect word in the Black Country called swilkering. It described the milk spilling over from the buckets that the milkmaids carried on the yoke on their shoulders. May we “swilker” the presence of the Lord wherever we go, leaving a godly deposit in the lives of those the Lord leads us to.
But Lord, I’m feeling in too much suspense to make much sense of what is happening now – let alone to have much sense of swilkering.
I’m in the rain shadow – and it feels like
the dark side of the moon!
The Lord: 'Keep in mind the way I’ve designed the solar system.
The moon’s not bigger than the sun
and the Earth’s not going round the moon - and there are reasons why certain sides face away from the sun,
just as there are advantages in living in the rain shadow.
'Many great souls experience the dark night of the senses - so why be surprised if all feels shut down? I am still at work though the tide is out and the night feels over long.
'Be sure to maintain a desert diet during this enforced quiet, for what you pray in these wilderness wanderings counts double in My sight – and the time will come when the desert bursts once more into bloom.'
Lord, the way ahead feels scary and circumstances quite contrary, but You have gone ahead first to ordain and then to explain the drift of this subtle shift of seasons.
The Lord: 'Although this new position may not earn you much official recognition, those who strain their hearts to fly at point may ultimately carry no more weight in My sight than those I hold in reserve to hold the anchor rope, and to serve without rancour in some seemingly lesser role.'
Thank You that when hope is fading fast, and the dead hand of the past threatens the romance, You never cease to provide some brand-new way to advance. Your love is as fresh today as it ever was all those years ago when You first called men and women to forsake the ways of the flesh and to follow You.
Formidable fortitude that will not let us go; inestimable concern that spies out opportunities where others see none and that continues to yearn for us even when we are inclined to mope and whinge.
When the wellspring of thanksgiving has all but run dry You open up the living springs of the deep to preserve our hearts from growing old and cold.
Grant us the passionate pursuit of the Lover, and reawaken us to all we know to be true and hold most dear.