Early Taste for Living Water

I developed a taste for it early in life. It flowed freely in our home as we lived our lives immersed in Scripture and Christian teaching. We were a family that read God’s word and prayed together daily. As a young girl, I developed a taste for the living water of gospel truth.   

Because I was introduced to living water early in life, I knew the truth that many didn’t discover until later—some never. Once I tasted it and drank deeply of it, I knew the real thing. When the world offered its cheap substitute, it may have tasted sweet at first, but my soul knew the difference immediately. Having drunk deeply of truth, falsehood was glaringly obvious. 

Learning to live a life of faith early, placed powerful tools in my hand, and taught me to use them. Granted I wouldn’t know their value or power until much later, but I was familiar with it at a young age. I learned that Scripture held all the truth I would ever need. I learned prayer was my communication system that connected me directly to my Father in heaven. I knew Scripture and prayer worked in tandem linking me directly to my divine power source, the Holy Spirit. With His power coursing through me, I could face each battle in His strength, not my own.  

When life became difficult very quickly as a young mom, I was familiar with the tools in my spiritual tool box, but not as skilled as necessary to survive this hard journey with my faith intact. I would need to become adept in their use very quickly if I planned to rise up in strength and let this hard road make me fearless, gritty and strong in His power.

From a young age, I learned prayer is how we talk with God, and how important it was to keep those communication lines open and active at all times. However, it wasn’t until I was a young mother caring form my preemie boys, that I would understand its vital nature. What I learned in rudimentary ways as a farmgirl, would become as crucial for me as a live radio signal for soldiers pinned behind enemy lines. 

When I found myself in the barren place, I knew where to find living water because years before, I learned the Source from which it flowed. I knew how to pray, but now I needed constant communication with Him to survive. I knew the Scripture and prayer worked together to connect me directly to the Holy Spirit. The issue at hand was to stay plugged into my divine Power Source, and operating in His strength as I was in way over my head; He was my only hope. 

What I didn’t know, was how quickly the battle would become fierce. I too must become fierce in faith, in prayer and in His power if I hoped to survive. I would have to wage war daily against discouragement and despair just to remain standing. 

I was stunned that He did not send a cavalry to my rescue; He did not snatch me away to an easier set of circumstances. It quickly became clear that He expected me to use those simple, yet powerful resources at my disposal and fight hard for my own spiritual survival and for that of my boys. It was His way of making me a battle-hardened warrior—a warrior who would remain unflinching when this hard road became long and required more from me than I first imagined. 

What also amazed me, was that He was right beside me in every battle with discouragement, every struggle against slipping into the yawning chasm of despair, and every season of hand-to-hand combat with the lies that stalked me relentlessly. 

In the fight, it often seemed our eyes locked. I knew these were defining and timeless moments. He was with me in the battle. He would never abandon me to my foes. The depth of our intimacy was forged in those places.

 I had no idea how humbling this road would be or how it would strip away all I clung to and force my total dependence upon my Lord. I had no idea how often this road would require white-knuckled trust in God—following Him through driving rain, jaw clenched and eyes locked with His.

If I had not been introduced to the living water early in life, I would likely have been flailing and thrashing about for the help readily available through faith in God. When Matthew was born with severe special needs, and the proverbial storm crashed in upon me, I knew where to turn for help; I had the necessary tools at my disposal.

I plunged into Scripture to truly know this God I was urged to trust. In Scripture I found that the Holy One who inhabits eternity, cannot lie. What He says, He will do; He can be trusted. This same God who decimated Egypt with plagues and split the Red Sea was the same God arising from every page of the Bible calling me into intimate friendship. It stunned me.   

 As I read the psalmists cry out in raw, unvarnished ways, I mirrored my prayers accordingly. The same God Who thundered from Sinai stooped to listen as I prayed at my kitchen sink. He welcomed my tearful rants, questions and our meandering conversations. He desired intimacy with me, and that happened through our ongoing conversations that started when I woke up and ended as I drifted off to sleep still talking with my God. 

This same massive God whose footsteps fall upon each page of Scripture fueled me with divine power as I remained in His word, in communication through prayer and followed in faithful obedience. His spirit within me empowered me through long days and even longer nights of caregiving. His spirit kept me functioning through exhaustion, discouragement and isolation when it seemed humanly impossible. 

None of it could've happened without Him. It was Him who made me love the living water when I was just a girl and placed those simple, yet powerful tools in my hands. It was Him who taught me to love His word and pray. It was Him who called me into a relationship as a young girl and laid strong foundation stones for my place, and it was Him who put His praise in my mouth so that I could say along with the psalmist:   

“Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him! Psalm 34:8