My body needs water. I cannot get away from its daily demands. In my kitchen I gulp a few sips to down my supplements. I grab a bottle from my garage on my way out the door. My coffee has water in it. Surely that counts? 

My routine consumption rarely approaches the eight to nine glasses a day recommended by health professionals. I run a constant deficit, staying on the verge of dehydration. 

Why? 

Water is continuously available to me. It is canned and sparkling in my fridge, Colorado-fresh and free-flowing out my spigot, melodious in the creek by my home. Majestic in the expanse of wind-churned peaks across the surface of a nearby lake.  Thunderous and powerful over the falls. Thoroughly drenching from the skies. There is no lack of water in its availability to me. 

Even so, I barely quench my thirst when there is nothing else as refreshing or satisfying as water. 

I awoke this morning to Holy Spirit’s invitation to recognize His offer to drink deeply. My thirst is not met by His ubiquitous nature; it is met by my intentional consumption of Him. Not a sip here and there, not a gulp along with supplements, not my morning hot brew to awaken me for my day. His offer is saturation, steeping, ingesting, filling myself with Him. On cool days and scorchers alike. 

I need Him.

On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, I slipped into the restroom at the Dallas Fort Worth airport between flights. After washing my hands, I noted the custodian standing nearby, so as is my custom, I slowed down to make eye contact, smile, and thank her for her labors. However, when my eyes connected with hers, I became startled by the depth of sadness and grief she could not conceal. It was so unnerving, I had to catch my breath, quickly slipping past her after a cursory greeting.

Scenarios flooded my mind— who has she lost? What does this year represent for her? Is she alone this Christmas? Does she have a disabled child? Is she a caregiver? What are her fears? I found myself wishing I had an extra hundred dollar bill tucked away I could slip into her hand, but I did not. And her pain seemed untouchable, almost cheapened by suggesting mere cash could allay it. But I was grasping, wishing I had a way to help. I kept walking, haunted by the glimpse into her soul. I do not always know what to do, say or even pray.

​This is a hard year for many. Too hard.

As I post my holiday greetings and pictures of family, I am acutely aware many are struggling, some feeling utterly alone.

​Many are aware God appeared on earth clothed in flesh, his coming providing mankind a model to live by. Others may realize Jesus came as a man without sin in order to pay the price for the wrong each of us have done, qualified to do so by His own perfection. He makes forgiveness possible. A just God requires accountability; a loving God bore the price for it Himself on a cross.

But few recognize the purpose of Jesus’ miraculous appearance was to restore us to God relationally, so we could live in union with our Creator, a good, good, God.

Union. Bliss. Intimacy.

These are not words we typically hear applied to the Christian faith, and yet, this is the purpose and goal of Christ’s work upon the Earth: to destroy the works of the evil one (who labors to isolate man from God), to speak the Truth of reconciliation and connection with God, and to restore mankind to His side as companions. He calls us friend!

This is the Good News.

No matter what circumstances we face, He will never leave us or forsake us. He is so committed to us, His people are inscribed on the palms of His hands.

I thought you might need some good news as we end out 2020 and enter a new year, not alone after all.

Happy New Year!