A Promise

As I dialed the number that would connect me to Judd’s department at the University, I tried to collect my thoughts. Yes, I had tried the other taps. There was NO water coming from any of them. Obviously, at least to me, this was God’s response to my plea for direction; it was no coincidence. But now I was faced with explaining all of this to Judd who ultimately would feel the responsibility of determining the next step. Yes, we would discuss it and seek God’s direction, but a man will often feel the burden of the final decision. We were now in this together.
“Judd, we have a problem.” Tension, maybe a little panic, together with a sense of foreboding was probably conveyed in the tone of my voice. Judd always seemed to be able to balance my emotional extremes with an exaggerated calmness. Silence. And then, “Okay, can you explain it to me?” After a short conversation, together we decided to wait to call the well diggers or to check with anyone else until we had time to assess the situation.

That evening we had a lengthy discussion as a family. Our small monetary funds had nearly been depleted. With the last well, we had spent over a thousand dollars on one drilling that had seemingly been successful.  Should we try again? Or, should we assume God’s message was that we should change directions, reevaluate this farm venture, and maybe pull the plug on it? But where would we go?

How could we start all over again? We delayed a decision for another day. Meanwhile, we were without water again, and that meant some adaptations we had learned so well those first six weeks. Find big containers, minimize bathing rituals, save water by using the outhouse once again. Basically, back to the camping mode.

We started the next morning with a prayerful and very tentative approach. Now both Judd and I were listening to what God might be saying. No longer was I, in particular, very loquacious with God. I would let him speak to me. I would be quiet.

After I had cleaned the dishes and the kitchen as best I could, I grabbed my Bible and returned to the familiar old easy chair. I had been reading from Isaiah, so allowed the Bible to fall open and settled my heart. Glancing down at the open Bible, my eyes fell upon words that seemed to come directly from the mouth of God to me.

Once again I was awestruck. Truly, I understand the argument that we should never read the Word of God out of context. But I also know that the Word of God is “alive and powerful.” And after walking with God as long as I have, I know that he will interact with us in ways that we understand, especially when we are needing direction, guidance, reassurance. The verses that jumped off the page that morning were almost audible. I imagined Jesus sitting in the rocking chair beside me, his kind eyes gazing into my troubled heart. I have written the date, October 4, 1982 in the margin of my Bible. This is what I read;

The afflicted and needy are seeking water, but there is none,
And their tongue is parched with thirst;
I, the Lord will answer them Myself,
As the God of Israel I will not forsake them.
I will open rivers on the bare heights,
And springs in the midst of the valleys;
I will make the wilderness a pool of water,
And the dry land fountains of water
. . .
That they may see and recognize,
And consider and gain insight as well,
That the hand of the Lord has done this,
And the Holy One of Israel has created it.
Isaiah 41: 17, 18, 20

What did this mean to me? Exactly the assurance I was needing. God was in this. It was his land, we would be his stewards. He would provide not only the water that we were needing, but his Spirit, the Aqua Vitae, would bring the fruit and be the sustainer. Why? So that the glory would go to Him.

Now we could go forward with assurance. So, how was he going to solve this, exactly?

Then began another learning curve.