Who is He?

I came out here to this waterless place to dig until I found Him: the Wellspring of Life. I can draw from no other, and until I tap His deep and ancient rivers, I thirst here in these dry and weary places.

I have watched many faces for many years to see if I could find rivers in them. I was fooled by promises from merchants and traders and preachers of what’s best for satisfaction. Everything has left me empty, still carrying my cup to fill. And then I tasted of Him, rare and costly and precious, and I found in Him the quenching of my soul.

But O Jesus, how do You quench me and still leave me so parched? And though I thirst, why is my greatest wrestle the wrestle to sit aside and dig, dig, dig – dig that I might drink of You again? O Jesus, who are You that in knowing You I find how little I truly know You?


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