“Therefore, behold, I will allure her, and lead her into the wilderness, and speak comfortably unto her; and I will give her vineyards from thence, and the valley of Achor for a door of hope. And she shall sing there, as in the days of her youth…”
(Hosea 2:14,15)
A year and more has gone by since you gave me that verse. So much has happened, and yet… One tends to feel dull and dry when wandering in the desert, I suppose. But recently you told me,
“You’re done walking and wandering. You’re here now. I want you to stop and take a deep breath—take in the scenery! Yes, here may not look much different than all the rest of the desert spreading away in all directions, but it’s time for you to abide awhile. I want you to enjoy the moments fully, to do whatever you do with all your focus and attention. You’ll need to start by digging for Water, so I also have something for you—a shovel: the Time has come for you to dig.”
Desert can become Oasis.
But, I’ve gotten used to this wandering around in the desert… It doesn’t take much of me. I used to have a garden, and lots of projects, but then my eyes began to gaze at the sunsets, and then you took me beyond the sunrise, and let me travel! But, when I got back, I hadn’t the discipline to resume the duties of home, and so I floundered…and then eventually came your call…
“Therefore, behold, I will allure her, and lead her into the wilderness, and speak comfortably unto her…”
Last Spring I was making plans to travel, because I wanted to, but I wasn’t at ease about them—and then right in the midst of those plans you called me—called me to drop them and come out here with you into this desert, and you promised that it would be just me and you…that I would have to do hard things, but that I would learn and grow and learn to love you more than anything else in the whole world! And so I followed you out here…
And it’s been hot, and dry, and awfully lonely, and…so full of change! Most of the time the thoughts and emotions inside me have been many, many! But they are buried so deep, they are tangled so tight—I couldn’t even begin to express them into words. They wouldn’t even melt themselves into tears and relieve the ache inside me. So I just had to keep plodding on, putting one foot in front of the other. I’ve learned to appreciate seasons of dryness, the beauty of the desert landscape. Its been said that dry seasons produce maturity. You’ve been there the whole time, though, so even when I am completely weary and can’t talk at all, at least I know you are there. But I feel dull. Am I even learning anything?
“…And I will give her vineyards from thence…”
It sounds strange to say it, but out here in this desert, you’ve given me a vineyard. The green leaves and purple grapes may be a total metaphor (even for a metaphorical desert), but you dropped a paying job into my lap that I never would have had the courage to seek out on my own. It’s a livelihood. Along with it have come some tools and a lot of experience! It’s been hard, but the easy kind of hard where I’m motivated by outside sources. I thank you for it.
“…And the Valley of Achor for a door of hope…”
The Valley of Achor. Achor! Where long ago, in the Bible, Achan decided to steal some of the devoted gold from the destroyed Jericho and hide it in his tent. Because of that, so many men died in the battle at Ai, and when God told Joshua about it he had all the people stone Achan and his whole family! It is the Valley of Trouble. I cannot say I have had trouble, in that sense, but I take the shade of meaning that it is a Valley of Confrontation: of facing of demons. It has been for me a Valley of Identifying with Jesus and his 40 days in the wilderness. When the season of Lent came, I took comfort in the thought of walking along the same road with Jesus in those 40 days—I had so many temptations and struggles to fight. I thought that Easter would be the end, the climax, the culmination that would end in the last part of your promise to me: “And she shall sing there, as in the days of her youth!”
I was disappointed. Not to say that Easter was nothing, but it seemed to me that on that day all you did was simply steer me in a different direction from the way which I had been going—a direction which didn’t seem to look much different than all the rest of this vast, open wilderness. There was certainly no breathtaking change of scenery, no sudden discovery of a hidden oasis. But, it wasn’t long after Easter that you said, “It’s time to dig.”
Why would anybody dig in a desert? Water.
Water means life. Water in the desert means an oasis! If that’s what will come of my digging here then I had better get started!
And yet . . .my flesh protests, “I’ve gotten used to this wandering around in the desert… It doesn’t take much of me… I used to have a garden, but…” Digging means sore muscles and stiff hands and sweat and being hotter than the hot you get by just walking. It takes discipline. Diligence. Digging means putting your back into it, and keeping it up, on and on, and not quitting till the job’s done. Digging means being faithful. “I don’t know if I can do that anymore! Maybe a few years ago, but I’ve become quite the wimp nowadays! Haven’t you seen how many things I’ve been failing at?!”
“And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” The rebuttal to my indolence comes instantly. Oooh boy.
“Dig.” And here I am, still staring at the shovel and shifting uneasily as if it were a foreign object which I had no idea how to use. Why haven’t I picked it up and begun to dig like you told me? I’ve wasted weeks camped out here by this place, and I haven’t even done much of anything else either. What in the world have I been doing? Why does it take me so long to obey?
Fine. The time is now. Today’s the Day. I’ll pick up that shovel. God, give me strength to actually keep at it and get a well dug.
“And she shall sing there, as in the days of her youth…”
The last phrase of your words echoes through my mind as I stand and take up the handle. Lord, when will the day come when you give me a song? You promised…
“…The great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go, his love for us does not. It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; and, therefore, it is quite relentless in its determination that we shall be cured of those sins at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him.”
Threads of Truth: 