photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

Don’t say, don’t say there is no water
to solace the dryness at our hearts…

Don’t say, don’t say there is no water.

That fountain is there among its scalloped
green and gray stones,
it is still there and always there
with its quiet song and strange power
to spring in us,
up and out through the rock.
~Denise Levertov from “The Fountain”
Spring is a time of solace, a rehydration of our dry hearts.  We are sprung from an internal desert by a fountain cascading up and over and through the impenetrable yet smoothed rock of our souls, a perpetual hymn of watery song strengthened by each obstacle, emboldened by every impeding obstruction.
Still there and always there, for when we are most thirsty, for when we hear over and over there is no water.
We know better.

Lenten Meditation: Refined and Scrubbed

But who can endure the day of his coming?
Who can stand when he appears?
For he will be like a refiner’s fire or a launderer’s soap.

Malachi 3:2

While looking at pictures of burning buildings in Japan after the earthquake,  it is wholly evident that much of the infrastructure in the effected areas is being completely consumed by fire, if it wasn’t swept away in the waves.  It is being quickly destroyed,  to eventually be rebuilt from the ground up.  There is nothing but debris, nothing left to salvage.

Yet we are told that God does not destroy his people like these buildings are destroyed.  Instead our debris and impurities are wiped away, as if painfully scrubbed by soap or refined by fire.  We are left whole, intact and unsullied.

Only then can we be ready for what is to come.