It comes like a summer drought, draining life and cracking open what once was whole. It dehydrates the broken, drying up hope.
Cotton-mouth despair blows fragmented heart pieces like tumbleweed across the prairie. The earth groans under weighty grief. Can anyone refresh the broken?
Yes, he whispers
The Spirit covers like a long-awaited dew, drenching the parched heart. Meditate on Him, His Word, on what He has done. Ponder the work of His hands. God is our hope. He is our future. He is our peace.
Flee toward true refuge. To the God of creation. The God of salvation. Your God. His good Spirit leads, so lift up your soul. Nothing is too difficult. He satisfies the thirsty. Draw water from His well of salvation.