Don’t just maintain your trail the way I do my windows though. I tend to look at them, say “yep, they’re dirty and the blinds are dusty,” and then go on to something else, something more fun. My windows, needless to say, do not get clean that way. And our trails won’t change a bit either if we don’t do the necessary digging and cutting away and chopping down and raking. So let’s put a little spiritual muscle into it and get the job done.
- Do I know where to find water on this trail? (You’ve got to have access to water, dear one, when you’re on the trail!) Am I drinking the living water or am I substituting that which produces life with that which quenches only temporarily? Am I drinking from the fountain of living water? Am I drinking daily? Am I drinking enough? How can I know? It’ll start bubbling up inside and spilling out, for pete’s sake!
Jesus answered her and said to her,
“Everyone who drinks of this water shall thirst again;
but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst;
but the water that I shall give him
shall become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life.”
- Am I surrounded by miry clay, caught in a pit of destruction? Or am I walking on solid, dry ground with sure footing? (Dear friend, sometimes we spend so much time in the mud we begin to think that’s normal. It’s not!) Have I exchanged my portion of milk and honey for mud pies? Are my clothes caked in mud instead of white as snow? Have I gotten so deep into this slimy pit that I can’t get out on my own? Do I need some supernatural help?
- Have I fallen into a pit that is not of my own making? One that someone else has dug and thrown me into? Have I been made a fool of? And has my shame and guilt and fear and sadness caused that pit to seem insurmountable? Do I need a savior, a knight in shining armor, to come along and rescue me from that pit? Do I need Him to set me on dry ground, brush me off, kiss me gently and set me on broad ground again so that I can move on? (Dear friend, He can so do that!)