think unkink

So I’m sippin my soda under the gold sun in the high blue sky, trees rustlin, butterflies dancin. Life is good. Except for one thing. The lawn is dry. I mean crispy brown. The grass is old and shriveled, like chow mein. And I can’t figure out what’s wrong. I’m doin everything right. I’m out here where God told me to go, out in the back yard, out in the middle of the field, where all that grass is dying and lost. It was a chore to get me out here, away from the TV. And now that I’m here, I’m eager, I mean I’m gunned, for the grass to grow. So what’s wrong?

The problem is, I’m squeezing the hose so tight, no water is getting through. I’m so eager, so on fire for God that I’m thinking I’m where He wants me to be. And if I just direct the hose with my clenched fist, then the whole lawn will flush green by my avidity. But the harder I squeeze, the more impossible it is for the Spirit to flow through my hand.

I need to let go. I just need to be there. To just breathe. And let go. To just stand in the sun and absorb my surroundings and take it all in. I myself can’t make water flow from me. But I can let it flow through me, by letting go.

And as I come back each day, pressing on, just letting go, over time that lawn becomes green. It was the easiest watering I’ve ever done. Because I didn’t do anything except hold out my unclenched hand. And the Spirit did the rest.

Times like these, I want to think “unkink.”

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