In the ancient world, when armies wanted to completely destroy an enemy long after they had gone, they would salt their fields. It rendered the land sterile for a long time. No life. No crops.
I have sat down to write many times in the past few weeks, but nothing came to me. My soul is sterile.
I have wondered of and over how God could have ever used this dry soul to lead His Church. The plants are withered and dry. The soil is almost white with toxic sodium.
The answer, I believe is that there was fruit here. Rows and rows of crops grew here. I remember times when the ground brought forth fruits of grace and hope. I remember when people would stand around and celebrate the joy of the harvest.
Those were good days.
Then soldiers came and covered the field with salt.
I wish I could say they overpowered me. I wish I could say I fought right to the bitter end. I wish I could say, but I can’t.
The worst part of this destruction–at least for me–the soldiers did not blitz in a night, they came to me as friends. I opened the front door. I welcomed them in. I fed them at my table. I shared with them the precious fruit of my harvest. Then, having won my trust, they pulled out bag after bag of salt. Before I knew it, everything was sterile.
Nothing grows here now.
It is dead.
But something inside me is calling me to sit patiently and watch. My hope is that one day, the stone will roll away and life will come from death. My hope is this sterile soil will one day sprout resurrection.
Please, God, You are resurrection and life. I could sure use You right now.