A whisper trickles down the face of creation. A moon reflects light unto the Earth’s skin that once held snow the night before. A barren land cries out for her creator.
The sweet hum of the Earth in the stillness of the night. A breeze kisses the face of the land that once bore crops, a land that once reaped harvests of Your faithfulness now lay naked. She cries a cry that sounds so familiar. Crying out to her Father for provision, for newness, for life. Yet she feels as if no one can hear her, that her barrenness is a reflection of her worth. That her season of rest is all in vain. A cry to the one her soul loves yet silence is the only thing to comfort her. Longing for the birds that once danced among her fields and the flowers that blossomed in her gardens. Broken at the thought of the fruit that once grew among her trees and the rivers that once flowed through her veins. Dreaming of the nights when the moon sang of her glory and the sun poured out growth. Now nothing but a soil that cannot bring forth life, trees with no fruit, flowers with no blooms, rivers with no water. Lament is her song. Father do you here her? She just wants You again.
My dear precious child. Do you not know the ways of your Father? I do not give in all seasons of life but in times when I long for you to come closer I give less. I am all glory in my fullness but My fullness is something you’ve never seen. A land that does not bear fruit does not mean it is lifeless to Me. I am the life. I bring forth all things. These times when your soul cries out to Me for more are not for nothing. Sweet one they are to remind you where your harvest comes from and where to return the praise. I have not left you in your nakedness My love, My beautifully beloved but I have brought stripping and pruning, crushing and pressing, pushing and pulling, die to yourself and new life will spring forth from Me. I hear the cries of your heart, of your barren land. You do not see what I see. Your land is not barren but bountiful to Me. My love do you not know the a farmer rotates the fields? He lets the soil rest to break cycles of pests that harm the crops and to give life back to tired soil. My child can’t you see, you are so beautiful to Me. In My time your lands will reap harvests seven times the original, you will sing a new song but until then, rest and know that I am the Lord your God the one who gives and the one who takes away. Do not be ashamed of resting for you are resting to reap. My dear sweet love, not all things that are barren are of little value. I actually prefer you that way so that I am the source of your harvest. You will know where your help comes from. You are one of many but the only one that caught My eye. You are My lily of the valley, the one I love the most. Your season of faithfulness is coming but while you wait prepare the fields, plant the crops, expect rain will come. In you My child, I well am pleased.
