Like a lion at the well

It's Monday morning. I'm tired. Things are normal here in Eunice-land. A full Sunday, with three services at three churches in three towns, a choir practice of an hour and an hour of Bible Study and I'm sore and tired. My thirst for God has grown even as I stumble around looking for that living water and that God-filled well.

So, I reach for inspiration, as if I could dial it up and get the answers I seek simply through concerted effort (and listening to Casting Crowns talking about something deep: The light began to fade on the city on the hill. Each one though they knew better; that they were different by design," Mark Hall sings.

 And I reach for inspiration like a Red Bull so-filled with caffeine to the extent that it floats on the top of the liquid like BP's oil sheen on the Gulf's waters.

A year from now, I (God willing) will lead a troupe of folks from Louisiana and beyond to Israel. It will be my wife Mary and my's second trip. Since I have much more of an idea of what to expect, and the history of the buildings is much more known to me, I pray I will be able to use the time as more of a worship-filled 10 days.

The single moment I recall where I felt God's heavy hand on me was when we were floating on a boat on the Sea of Galilee. Ultimately, when you get out there on the lake, it's a lake, albeit a lake surrounded by mountains, but a lake. We have lakes in Louisiana. The water looked quite a bit like lake water in Louisiana.

But as we sat there, floating gently, Rich Mullin's Awesome God began to play, and I felt an instantaneous connection with the Father I've always wanted to touch, to see, to feel, to be inspired by. When Shout to the Lord followed, I began to tear up.

No matter what people say, the Lord is a fleeting acquaintance, coming and going like a relative at Christmas time. I'd love to say I could Narnia-like call upon Aslan and the great Lion would come and we'd have barbecue together on Sunday afternoons. But I haven't found that to be the case. The great mystery of God is how He is here, there and everywhere and yet there are times, dry times, when He seems to be nowhere at all.

I know that's on me, more so than him, but still...

Mark Hall is singing now, "leave it all behind and come to the well." That seems to be a practical way of living, I suspect. "Running on empty, can't find the remedy, come to the well."

When nothing can satisfy, and the world leaves you high and dry, just come to the well."

If there is any reader out there who would like to take this journey to Israel next January, trying to satisfy the unquenchable thirst, contact me at 985-640-9009 or billyt62@hotmail.com. We'll set you up with the details, costing somewhere around $3,500 per person, flying out of Baton Rouge, with trip insurance. I'd love to be your host on the journey, not of a lifetime, but one that will help fill that thirst.