The little deer that pants for the water brook in Psalm 42, does so because he knows what’s there waiting for him. Parched by the dry air, he runs to the cool, refreshing creek. It’s there, right where it’s always been, available, accessible and free. He jumps fallen trees, darts around bushes and strains up steep hills. He staggers over rocks, dodges low limbs and outruns persistent predators. All because he wants a drink from the river of life. At the bank he bends toward the stream, giving himself to all it provides, bowing to its rule in his life. As each sip travels down his throat, the more deeply he feels it soothing his cravings. He is satisfied. It has revived him and restored him and eased his weariness. He now looks up through bright eyes and declares his thanks. His needs have been met, his life restored. Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift.
Drink well, my friends.
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