Dew Season

This past weekend, a small group of us went to South Dakota/Minnesota where my friend Lisa Schwarz was ministering. Like many of these weekends, there are anywhere from 2-4 meetings at various locations within the same region. Although they are all very different from each other, a common theme usually emerges. This particular weekend, the focus was on the ‘both-and’… the tension of the ‘already, not yet’ and our response when we don’t see God working in the way we expect.

During one of the house meetings, as Lisa was guiding us in prayer in surrendering our 5 senses to the Lord, the undeniable scent of rain/dew suddenly permeated the room and the air physically became cool… sort of like a gentle wind, yet, there was no breeze. Everyone sensed it all at once and we paused to wait as the Spirit hovered in our midst. I had never experienced anything like it before! It felt & smelled like a new morning right before sunrise. What was equally felt was God’s new mercy, renewal, restoration and healing that stirred a collective longing for more as faith increased in the room. The meeting continued on where people received just that – His love was felt in a powerful way.

We were debriefing this on the car ride back and I flippantly said, ‘Well, someone did open a window’.

I know I’ve surrounded myself with the right faith-filled friends when they almost threw me overboard like Jonah and called my doubt onto the carpet…but, you know, in the most sarcastic and loving way possible.

The thing is, it’s not like I didn’t believe that it happened or that it wasn’t the Lord. It was very obvious that His fragrance filled that room at the exact perfect moment as we yielded to Him. My question wasn’t ‘why’ but the need to explain the mysterious… the ‘how’.

In scripture there is a distinction between asking “How?” because you’re unbelieving, (like Zechariah) and asking “How?” because you’re genuinely curious about what God is about to do (like Mary). Can both co-exist at the same time? I don’t know, but it sure felt like it.

The Lord was addressing the mixture of doubt I still had in my heart while simultaneously stirring wonder. So later on that night I went on a mini quest to learn more about dew and here is what I discovered:
– Dew doesn’t come up from the ground or fall from the sky like rain. Instead, it forms from water vapor already present in the air.
– It happens at night when the sky is clear, the wind is still and humidity is present.
– The dew point is the temperature to which air must cool for the water vapor in it to begin condensing into liquid water, assuming the amount of moisture in the air stays the same. When the air reaches its dew point, it becomes saturated.

Then I heard the Lord say, “It is due/dew season for my Bride.”

In the dark and in the stillness, He is there. Saturating. Deepening. Forming what can’t be seen yet. In those hidden places, our restless questions of “how?” are often met with silence. But it is HIS silence. And if we become still enough to listen, we may discover that His silence actually thunders and reverberates with the powerful presence of Elohim… hovering over the unseen like morning dew, gathering with expectation in the quiet waiting to be released.

Early the next morning, I stood barefoot out in the dew covered backyard and leaned into Him.

Breathed Him in.

Surrendered all my ‘hows’ and ‘whens’ and ‘whys’ as His perfect love flooded out the residual mixture in my heart.

Trusting that He has been working on the ‘suddenlies’ & ‘due seasons’ long before he knitted me together.

I have been so encouraged this week by His invitation and these promises found in scripture:
“And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart” – Galatians 6:9 (God’s timing & Steadfast)
“I will be like the dew to Israel; he will blossom like a lily. Like a cedar of Lebanon he will send down his roots.” – Hosea 14:5 (He himself is our sustenance)
– “When the dew settled on the camp at night, the manna also came down.” – Numbers 33:28 (Provision)
– “The remnant of Jacob will be in the midst of many peoples like dew from the Lord, like showers on the grass, which do not wait for anyone or depend on man.” – Micah 5:7 (Community)
– “….let those who dwell in the dust wake up and shout for joy – your dew is like the dew of the morning; – Isaiah 26:19 (Awakening & Joy)
– “The seed will grow well, the vine will yield its fruit, the ground will produce its crops, and the heavens will drop their dew. I will give all these things as an inheritance to the remnant of these people. Just as you, Judah and Israel, have been a curse among the nations, so I will save you, and you will be a blessing. Do not be afraid, but let your hands be strong.” – Zechariah 8:12 (Blessing & Strength)

So take heart, Bride. The night is not empty, the silence is not silent, and the waiting is not wasted. The atmosphere is becoming saturated. The dew is forming. And when the due season comes, may we be ready to receive Him for who He is and what He has been forming all along.

Breaker

It isn’t the initial break of the wave that causes the damage. It is the receding, that carries with it the pieces. Time after time, wave after wave, thought after thought. Those pieces, those grains of sand, the innocence, or parts of us that will never return except by some miracle. If the initial break was one and done, we might be able to move on quicker, having not lost as much. So it feels like in life- break of wave after break of wave, pain after pain, taking, always taking pieces of our soul. Until what? What are we left with? It certainly isn’t the same as where it started. Once full of life and plenty, is now stripped away, compacted, desolate. I don’t need these same pieces back, those ones taken out to sea, but how can life be restored? What can bring consolation?

Time.

For alas, a different wave fills in. One that is meant to build back what its counterpart has robbed. This sand is different. Purified by the sea. This new life is better than the last. To have lost but regained something better is bittersweet and often painful, but necessary for life to move on. Alas, I trust, I lean into, I wait for that which only time, that is to say the Lord will repair in the natural process.

Trusting the Promise in the Silence

CS Lewis reflected on Mary talking to “the gardener” with the empty tomb in the background and says “You can’t see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears.” A true sentiment of last weekend walking through Good Friday and what I call Silent Saturday. Days marked by grief, tears and complexity.

Then Easter!! Resurrection Sunday!! A time of celebration!! The day of victory over death!!

It is filled with worship, family, and activity. Yet, amidst the beauty, there is often so much commotion that the day passes too quickly for us to fully recognize the holy, life-giving miracle that has taken place. It can feel like opening a long-awaited gift in haste- never pausing to read the card, acknowledge the giver, or recognize that the gift was thoughtfully prepared long ago in response to our deepest need.

Then comes the week after Easter… A week meant for continued celebration has, for me, felt unusually quiet. Even silent.

My inner self feeling more unrest than jubilee. The world, and frankly my old self whispers questions… Where is my God? Why isn’t He speaking to me? Why is He distant?

But my renewed mind responds differently. If He is silent, so too shall I remain- not silent in separation, but silent in posture. Still. Attentive. Trusting. I see Him in the room, not with my human eyes, but with my heart- a heart that sees through faith. It rests in the promise of a Father who is faithful, One who has assured us He will never leave nor forsake us. If He is present, then there must be a purpose in the silence or perhaps I am simply learning to listen more deeply.

So, like the disciples after the resurrection and ascension of Jesus, I will wait. I will stay in the city until what has been promised is sent.

Holy Spirit Come!!

Sometimes life requires us to trust in what is known rather than what is seen. Sometimes faith is not expressed in movement, but in stillness. Sometimes the most faithful next step is simply to Linger Longer.