In a ‘dry and weary land’ David faced many dangers. In this track he reflects on his own physical and emotional exhaustion as a result of being ousted from Jerusalem as the result of his son Absalom’s revolt. For us, too, weariness may often come in waves: when the tide flows in we feel invigorated and motivated – but when it goes again, our energy dissipates, and we struggle to retain our hope.

This poignant track is set to an exceptionally moving improvisation which friends played in the summer of 2022, which we have called ‘Emerging from the Mist’.

For so many people, the night, with its thoughts and longings, can be a time when fears and concerns bombard the mind. But the darkness is as light to the Lord, and darkness cannot remain where the Lord Himself is – and as David discovered the wakeful, ‘dread-full’ hours are precisely those we can spend with Him, and thereby avoid giving way to fears and dark thoughts.

Moonlight sonata

Everything in life is changing and transitory . . . except the Lord, who is from everlasting to everlasting. He remains the same, and His years will never end. (Ps. 102:27 NIV). This beautiful and powerful song is based on verses 18 and 27 of Psalm 102, and celebrates the wonderful truth that before our world came into existence, God already was.

He is the ‘Ancient of Days’ and He, like His Son Jesus, are the same yesterday, today and forever. May the Lord root this glorious truth ever deeper in our hearts – and let it be written (and sung!) in the generations to come, so that a people not yet created may praise Him.

This arrangement of Huw’s song, by Justin Coldstream, is sung by Megan Topper, accompanied by Justin Coldstream (keyboard), Francis Cummings, Philippa Barton, Christiane Mueller, Jo Garcia (strings), Anthony Thompson (trumpet), Peter Richards (French horn).

(Song Copyright Huw Humphreys 1990)

We have no idea how long David spent in the desert on this occasion. How many nights did he spend out in the wilderness, at risk from animals and his foes alike? Yet, David found ways to strengthen himself in the Lord, even under the onslaught of devastating betrayal and attack. In his youth it had been from King Saul, and it had been from raiders at Ziklag, when even his own people were speaking of stoning him, and then there was this dreadful time when his own son led a full-scale rebellion against him. But always, David turned to the Lord. (1 Sam. 23:14; 30:6; 2 Sam. 15:23)

When pangs of despair press in hard on every side, mere knowledge about God is never going to help us; we must cry out to Him and thrust our way upwards through the darkness to come before the throne of God: “Bring me through, Lord. Open the way. Make it possible. Don’t abandon the work of your hands!”

The Lord is no stranger to the desert. The ark of His presence hung suspended from poles as the Levites carried it through the wilderness, and His tent was pitched right in the middle of the Israelite camp each night. (1. Chron. 15:15; Num. 2:1) Seen and worshipped, or unseen and apparently absent, God does not abandon His children when they find themselves in barren wastes as different as can be from the Garden of Eden that He originally intended for them.

He was powerfully present with David in his various times in the midbar wilderness, even as He was with Jesus, during His extended sojourn praying and fasting in the wilderness of Sinai, where wild animals threatened, satan tempted and angels kept watch.

We love it when the water of life is flowing freely through us,’ when praise flows and prayer is just a sheer joy. But how do we cope when, for either a short or a long time, our ‘water levels’ seem to recede and, like David, we find ourselves in a dry and waterless place; when seeking the Lord feels dull, and our circumstances so cramping and constricting that it feels as though all the life is being squeezed out of us.

At times like these, we are more aware of the Lord’s absence than His presence, and even the thought of finding our joy in the Lord, and ‘riding in triumph on the heights of the land,’ as Isaiah puts it, seems a remote prospect. (cf Is. 58:14)

In this waterless wilderness, a place of inner strife as well as outward hunger, thirsty and exhausted, David reached out beyond his own plight and deliberately ‘hooked’ himself into the Lord’s goodness by meditating on Him and clinging to Him, remembering all the help He had sent from His sanctuary.

When we choose praise over despair, our worship becomes the crook that keeps us looking to the Shepherd. Our confidence grows as we remember how He has led and watched over us in the past, however far away He may feel now. Praise glorifies the Lord and is such an offence in the devil’s nostrils that it messes up his snares.

Praise You, Father God. Nothing and no one else can ever satisfy my soul. No one else can deliver me over and over again from all that threatens and hangs over me.

You have invited me to feast and drink at Your table – and there is such deep companionship there. But right now, I am so parched for You that my tongue and my body are black in the searing dryness. Keep me from slaking my thirst on things that fritter the time away and merely serve to fuel the desires of my flesh. I want to cultivate the minutes to seek You, Lord, and to escape the downward pull of my fears, the disquieting thoughts that make me focus on the dangers.

Wrap yourself in light, Lord God. Show Yourself greater than these pressures. Come in the gentleness of Your presence, in signs and visions that impart the stirrings of fresh hope, and bring whispers of Your love, for it is those who hunger and thirst to be right with You who You promise to bless.

It is night. David is sitting in the doorway of the improvised tent he has pitched in the Judean wilderness, looking out at what lies in front of him. The moon and the stars are illuminating a sweeping expanse of bare sand and rock, a drear, dry and waterless place, as different as can be from the green pastures and still waters of the sheepfolds of his youth.

David was a poet at heart, and he sees in the landscape a mirror to the highly challenging circumstances he found himself in, and the barren condition of his inmost heart and mind. His resilience is at an all-time low, his faith and courage stretched almost to breaking point.

Is this where it will all end for him? He recalls all the wonderful times he used to enjoy in the sanctuary of the Lord: the brightly coloured robes and fragrant incense, the words and music flowing together; a place where the only overshadow came from the cherubim of God, not from any dark power trying to snuff out his life. He craves again that all-encompassing sense of the Lord ‘s presence.

As he gazes, he remembers. There have been many times when the Lord has had to discipline Him severely, but never once has He failed to rescue him. David gathers his thoughts, stretches out his arms, and pours out his heart:

O God, You are my God.

Earnestly I seek You; my soul thirsts for You.

My body yearns for You in this dry and weary land where there is no water.

I have seen You in the sanctuary and beheld Your power and glory.

Because Your loving devotion is better than life, my lips will glorify You.

I will bless You as long as I live; in Your name I will lift my hands.

My soul is satisfied as with the richest of foods.

With joyful lips my mouth will praise You!

When I remember You on my bed, I think of You through the watches of the night.

You are my help.

I will sing for joy in the shadow of Your wings.

My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me.

But those who seek my life to destroy it will go into the depths of the earth.

They will fall to the power of the sword; they will become a portion for jackals and foxes.

But the king will rejoice in God; all who swear by Him will exult, for the mouths of liars will be shut.

We are used to thinking of God as the All-mighty King. What a precious theme that is to ponder on! I have been reflecting recently on that word ‘all’, and the ‘allness’ – the completeness and totality – of God. John has such rich things to say about the all-encompassing intimacy and perfect love that exists between the Father, Son and Spirit, and the completeness of their plan in bringing Creation to birth.

No wonder the word ‘all’ occurs so often in Scripture, including in well over three hundred verses in the psalms! Sally, Colin, Harmony and I in this selection of some of these, accompanied by lovely music that we recorded last year at House of the Open Door.

Music:

Torelli, Sinfonia in C, 3rd movement

Musicians:

Anthony Thompson on trumpet (all 4 of them!), Peter Richards on the organ, Francis Cummings and Shirley Richards on violin, Christiane Mueller on viola and Corinne Frost on cello.

Music:

Mystery Improvisation

Musicians: Christiane von Albrecht on piano and Shirley Richards on violin

Vivaldi, Cum Sancto Spiritu, from his Gloria in D

Musicians: Nicola, Megan, Mike, Peter, Anthony, Francis, Philippa, Christiane M, Jo.

Featuring uplifting music for harp by the Spanish composer Manuel de Falla, that is wonderfully played for us by Fontane Liang, the title of the piece, La Vida Breve, reminds us that life is short – and that we are to respond to the Lord’s invitation to come and take the free gift of the water of life.

Music

Manuel de Falla: Vida Breve

Performed by Fontane Liang

Father, at this time, when many people are feeling the lack of things, and the pressures of life are increasing, we want to respond to Your invitation to come to the waters of life and drink freely.

The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” . . . To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life . . . Yes, let the one who is thirsty come and take the free gift of the water of life. (Rev. 21:6, 22:17)

Do you remember the cry of Isaiah, Israel’s great prophet to the nations, announcing, “Ho everyone who is thirsty, come to the waters!”?

We don’t say ‘Ho’ anymore, but it’s a really strong word in Hebrew - rather like God saying ‘Hoy’ to us, or like Jesus saying ‘Verily, verily.’ Most modern versions simply say ’Come,’ while the ultra-modern ones use some such expression as ‘Hey! Or ‘You there!’ It’s a call to take heed and listen.

And what a warm and welcoming word ‘come’ is! And what it is we are being invited to come to do? To buy, and drink! In places where water is scare, we wouldn’t be in the least surprised to hear vendors crying out, ‘Drinking Water: come and get it!” But then we would expect to hear a hefty price tag attached: ‘Thirty shekels a hin!’

But not here. Here, we are invited to come without price – to receive and to drink. We’re talking about the river of life which Jesus promised would flow within the hearts of believers (John 7:37). All our springs are meant to be in Him, (Ps. 87:7) and we’re praying today that You will release more of the flow of Your Spirit directly into any areas of our heart where the water level has become cloudy, silted, damned up, or receded – just as water companies open the sluice gates and release additional reserves of water when it is required.

Thank You, Jesus, that there is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, that holy place where the Most High dwells. (Ps. 46:4)

I love the Hebrew word that is used here for ‘come:’ haw-lak or lə·ḵū. Forgive the pronunciation, but the lovely thing about it is that, depending on the context, it embraces both an invitation to come and a directive to go. In other words, it covers all eventualities. We are meant to come to the Lord to drink so that we can go out in the power of the Spirit. It is the direction of travel in our life that is the most important thing of all.

And there are times when our thirst is quenched and we can be perfectly at peace and at rest in You – but Jesus, we’re sorry that so often, we come to You for a brief drink and then, as if satisfied that we have done our duty and had our weekly dose, before just carrying on again with our own concerns.

Did You not tell us that it is the Spirit alone who gives life, and that the flesh counts for nothing? (John 6:63 NIV) We’re eager to enter into the fullness of that life, into Your vitality that revives our dull and self-satisfied souls.

The theme of the Lord’s invitation to us continues, this time accompanied by the lapping waters of the River Vltava, (which means ‘Wild Water,’ and is widely known by its German name, the Moldau) as depicted by the Czech composer Bedřich Smetana. Exquisitely performed for us by Fontane Liang, the music beautifully captures the sound of the river as it gathers strength and momentum from its source in the Bohemian mountains, wending its way through a landscape of forests and meadows. It tumbles through the St John’s Rapids before widening out again to pass through Prague on its way to the mighty River Elbe.

It is music that is iridescent with Smetana’s love for his homeland, just as we are illumined by the joy of our eternal home as the Holy Spirit flows through our lives. How we need His water of life sparkling within us! At the scent of water, even that which is drooping and failing springs back to life. Why spend our money and direct all our labour to that which cannot satisfy, when He invites us to receive so much more by His Spirit?

Music

Moldau from Má Vlast (My Fatherland) by Bedřich Smetana

Musician: Fontane Liang

From the earliest verses in Genesis, right through to the very end of the Scriptures, we see the great benefits and blessings of water, both physically and spiritually. There are more than seven hundred references to it in the Scriptures – far more occasions than words such as faith or prayer or worship.

Thank You Lord that You use water to bring healing, as Naaman discovered when he obeyed the prophet and was healed of his leprosy in the River Jordan, and the blind man likewise, when Jesus enabled him to wash in the pool of Siloam. Thank You that You brought about great deliverance for the people of Israel, first when they crossed the Red Sea and later, the River Jordan at a time when it was in spate. (2 Kings 5:1-14, John 9:1-7; Exodus 14:1-15, 21; Josh. 3:13-17)

Rather as protective waters surrounded us in the womb, thank You, Lord, that water symbolises our own deliverance when we were baptised, dying to our old life, and being raised to our new life in Christ. Shepherd of our souls, lead Your people to still waters; give them water to drink even in desert places.

How we need the water of life for our bodies and spirit alike! At the scent of water, even that which is drooping and failing springs back to life.

Why spend our money and direct all our labour to that which cannot satisfy, when You invite us to receive Your Spirit? We want to listen carefully to You, and to eat what is good, so that our souls can delight in the richest of food, and You can have the joy of seeing a people who are hungering for Your presence, who really are looking for You all the time.

So here we are Lord, coming with all our failings and contradictions to receive this soul-replenishing water; coming to buy the wine that gladdens our hearts, and the milk that nourishes our bones. We come to You, leaning in to hear You, listening closely, so that our soul may live. (Is. 55:1-3 BSB)