Rick stared down at the parched
ground as he plodded along. The soil was crying out for water as revealed by
the deep, jagged cracks in the earth. He ran his tongue around his own dry lips
and wondered how much longer he could go on without a drop to quench his thirst. His poor old horse plodded at his side
almost too weary to put one foot in front of the another, and certainly too
lame to be straddled. There was not a trace of the errant cattle he had been
searching for. Should he go back or should he go forward. Either way seemed a
dismal prospect.
Surely some rustler must have rounded the cows up by now and stamped them with his own brand.
Surely some rustler must have rounded the cows up by now and stamped them with his own brand.
Rick
kept trudging until he reached a fair sized boulder. Here he sat down to remove
his bandana and wipe the sweat off his brow and neck. My goodness that noonday
sun was beating down hard. He unhooked his flask from off his belt and tipped
it to his lips. Not a single drop of water soothed his throat that was sore
from all that dust.
But
then his red rimmed eyes caught sight of something. What was that? A coyote or fox. Naw, it was too thin for
that. He got up and walked closer, peering through the dusty haze. Why it
looked for all the world like a pump. Surely his eyes must be playing tricks on
him. A pump? A pump way out here in the middle of nowhere How can that be? He
started running, panting, in the heavy heat. It was a pump. But look! Now what
is this? A baking powder can? Well, what in the world. It was hard work, but he
managed to pry off the lid and lo and behold a note was revealed. It warmed Rick’s
heart to have some sort of contact with another human being this far from nowhere
and he reached for it eagerly.
Hmm gotta prime the pump before I can have me a drink: says something about a jar of water neath a rock somewhere. Ah, here it is. Beautiful! Just beautiful. Never knew plain old water could look so pretty like. He looked from the pump to the jar in his weathered hands then back again. It says I gotta prime the pump with it. But what if there ain’t no water in that dry rusty looking pump then I’d be really be in a pickle. But if I’d guzzle it down quick like then it would be gone and I for sure couldn’t get no more.
Hmm gotta prime the pump before I can have me a drink: says something about a jar of water neath a rock somewhere. Ah, here it is. Beautiful! Just beautiful. Never knew plain old water could look so pretty like. He looked from the pump to the jar in his weathered hands then back again. It says I gotta prime the pump with it. But what if there ain’t no water in that dry rusty looking pump then I’d be really be in a pickle. But if I’d guzzle it down quick like then it would be gone and I for sure couldn’t get no more.
What
about you: are you sitting there, looking at your own jug of Living Water; an
inspiration from the Father, perhaps, or maybe clear direction. Are you also
tempted to guzzle it down or are you going to pour it into the pump of Faith
and pump mightily until the Living Water gushes out in a refreshing stream all
around you. Don’t horde your little touches from God, afraid you won’t get any
more, but share them generously, I didn’t say preachily, and let your
inspirations refresh a thirsty world. Rick did, and oh was he blessed!
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