Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb. Revelation 2:21
As I emptied the murky water out of our bird bath again, I thought about how, for so many years I had wanted a running fountain in the back yard. I wished for something that would keep the water clear and the receptacle clean without having to do all this work! It never was feasible or practical, as there is no power to that part of the yard and it would be too costly to provide it. Funny how it never stopped the birds from going to it though; although we’ve always tried to be attentive to keeping it as refreshed as possible, especially during the season of the grackles, beautiful black birds, who always dip their food into water it seems, before eating it!
This morning I was brought back to a church in Scottsdale, Arizona I had visited some time back, St. Maria Goretti’s. This beautiful place of worship had the most glorious chapel outside of the main church, which was wrapped in glass windows, filling the inside with bright light. It held at that time, a continuous exposition of the Holy Eucharist. The monstrance which held the Holy Eucharist was in the center of a crystal and gold fountain, surrounded and held up by the hands of gold and crystal angels, while underneath the clear, crystal -like water flowed amidst lush greenery. It was breathtaking, bringing me to my knees almost instantly. Leaving there I felt renewed, refreshed and exhilarated.
We, as receptacles of the Holy Spirit, often feel and perhaps at times are, murky, unprepared to hold and receive God’s love and power, which flows to us like a constantly running fountain. Through the power of His Son, Jesus Christ, it comes to us freely, whether we feel deserving of that love or not is irrelevant. We are His and that love will flow eternally. To simply contemplate that, refreshes our spirit! How good is our God!
Lord you refresh our souls with the gift of the fountain of your love. Abba! Father! We are yours!
Copyright© 2015 Kathleen A. Matson