The well of God’s love is fed by a flowing river of fresh, clean water. It is not stagnant, but constantly renewed.
It is cool and refreshing– so cool as to shock and cause discomfort to the tepid, but it is the only thing that will satisfy the parched.
It is deep, dark and mysterious. I cannot fathom its depths. I swim in it, and cannot touch or see the bottom.
It is not a reflecting pool. It is not sunlit and sparkling, light and warm. It is not a tiny puddle that will evaporate in the afternoon sun.
It is abundant beyond imagining– a perpetual reservoir.
Allow me to plunge into your depths,
And be submerged;
To float on the surface and hold my head above the water,
Despite the weight of my cares;
To be moved by the ebbs and flows,
And trust that I will not sink.
I need not fight the current, but become one with it, flowing onward to unknown places. . . the places where I’m meant to be.