The Spring

Sometimes I act as if there is not enough. Of God.
It's as if I believe that He is much like that spring we once had. In high summer, amidst extended heat and the hard ground of dry days, that water supply only trickled.
I think, that on extended days of hard and drab, the supply will run out. That I will go to fetch the water of, courage, strength, help, comfort, and the spring, it will be dry, or insufficient. That there won't be enough. Of Him.
I act like there is not enough of God.
I cower in my fear and insecurities, falsely believing He won't be there when I need Him. I am snapping at my flock, weeping in the dark, sleepless.
Acting, as if, my Lord, is not able or willing, to hear my muted cries, in the deep of night.
There were times, when I would go to that spring, in the summer dry, and hold my cup to the trickle. I would drink down that cool and quenching. And be satisfied. The supply was there. I just had to wait a little longer. Not once, in all the heated days and flowing years, did that spring dry up.
Not once.
"He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land.... You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail." Isaiah 58:11
He will not fail.
Will not.
He is endless. Eternal.
I need only come.
It is not the supply that lacks. It is my lack of coming.
He longs to fill my cup.
To overflowing.
He longs to satisfy. The thirsty. The dry.
He longs to satisfy. Me.
Oh, Lord, I'm coming!