Living Water

The outer courts of the home are slowly flooded with rising water.

Very slowly.

So slow that the children in the inner courts start to grow taller.

Days and months pass by.

Time ticks on.

Inch by inch, the water rises up the foundation of the home.

The water is dense, heavy with the whispered prayers of the mother and father in the inner courts.

Days grow long. Hours become tiresome.

Yet still, the water rises.

No one inside the home notices.

They move through their days as if nothing has changed, their prayers slipping quietly through walls, to a place unseen, unfelt.

The mother and father grow tired.

The children grow taller.

The water continues to rise.

Just as the mother and father reach the end of their own ability, on their knees and crying out to the Lord, water from the outer courts inches past the height of the foundation.

It rushes in and floods the inner courts.

The water is filled with the holy spirit and the many whispered prayers. It floods the hearts of the children and fills the mother and father with strength.

It quenches every thirst of the body and soul.

It is the living water.

Edit:

This poem was written while sitting in worship next to a beautiful mother and her two daughters. They had graciously opened their home for us to gather and sing praises.

Our creator is one that speaks in many ways, and one of my favorite ways is through poetry. In response to a heart posture of prayer these words flowed out of me onto my sheet of paper. I don't know if it was something that mother needed, but I know it was something I did. I feel so loved by the Lord's guidance in creation and edification.