Read Psalm 126.
I grew up in the Salinas Valley in central California – a verdant Eden that produces most of the vegetables on our tables. Part of the year, though, it takes on a resemblance to the “desert waste” in Psalm 126:4. Normally lush fields lie barren, tall green grasses wilt into mats of dry yellow brush, and gushing streams recede into beds of parched mud that spiderweb across the valley.
These arroyos secos are not only a reminder of the flourishing that has been, but also a promise that water will once again quench the thirst of the earth. Often, the streams are actually still flowing just beneath the surface.
How often does the peace of God look like this? There are times it gushes over the banks and splashes the surrounding country with lively green. So, too, are there times when God’s peace feels muted, flowing below the surface. And sometimes the water of tranquility seems to have stopped entirely…and the dry bed that remains is a testament to both the peace of ages past, and a promise of its return in the future.
Whether serenity flows easily or seems to have dried up, may we continue to plant, trusting that the Lord’s peace will never cease to flow.
Pray
God who is the source of all peace, bless us with the water that is a soothing balm to our hurts, that slakes our thirst, that brings forth abundance from the earth. When the streams that flow through our lives dry up, remind us who called water out of the rock, who strode the waves of Galilee, who established the very foundations of the sea. Amen.
Paul Burgess
Pastoral Resident, Presbyterian Campus Ministry (UNC, Chapel Hill)
Words for Waiting 