Like the dew…
Moses had led the nation of Israel through forty summers of blistering heat and brutal thunderstorms. He longed for his last words to them to be like the gentle rains of winter and the trickling dews of spring. Oh, how we love the tender sprouts of spring here in the desert — the soft green that carpets the ground for a few days after the winter rains. It is a precious sight in a climate where the summers are harsh and crisping. The kind of moisture that nourishes the garden and the fragile wildflowers is trickling dew, gentle rain…slow and soft. Powerful storms cause erosion; trees get twisted and broken, crops flattened. Big raindrops crush newly sprouted seeds into the mud. Moses, who smashed the stone tablets in his anger, is now asking that his words trickle like the dew that glistens from a delicate spider web.
Weren’t Jesus’ words that way? The prophet Isaiah predicted that when Messiah came, they would not hear Him raise His voice, nor see Him “extinguish the smoldering wick,” nor” crush the bruised reed” (Isaiah 42:3-2). He would lead His people like a shepherd carrying the lambs in His arms, carefully leading the nursing ewes (Isaiah 40:11). These are images of gentleness.
As a #dishwater_disciple, I aim to make my ordinary conversations like those of my Teacher. Sadly I do not often succeed. When I feel angry or frustrated, I tend to resort to loud words to get my point across, hoping my instructions will be like a fire hose! I am accustomed to thinking that powerful words are what is needed: strong phrasing, potent ideas. Sometimes Jesus’ words are like the sound of many waters, but for sheep and small children, for crushed and smoldering ones, His words are gentle like dew, trickling into the crevices and cracks of my dry heart to call to life the dry seeds of the good news that await enough moisture to risk sprouting.
If I want to be like Jesus (and I do), then my prayer needs to be: “Make me gentle in my words
(Deut 32:2).
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