A white-tailed deer drinks from the creek; I want to drink God, deep drafts of God. I’m thirsty for God-alive. I wonder, “Will I ever make it— arrive and drink in God’s presence?” I’m on a diet of tears— tears for breakfast, tears for supper. All day long people knock at my door, Pestering, “Where is this God of yours?”
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When my soul is in the dumps, I rehearse everything I know of you, From Jordan depths to Hermon heights, including Mount Mizar. Chaos calls to chaos, to the tune of whitewater rapids. Your breaking surf, your thundering breakers crash and crush me. Then GOD promises to love me all day, sing songs all through the night! My life is God’s prayer.
Compare All Versions: Psalms 42:1-3, 6-8
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![[Certainty in the Uncertainty Series] During Empty Times: Fill Up with Christ Psalms 42:1-3, 6-8 The Message](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fimageproxy.youversionapi.com%2Fhttps%3A%2F%2Fs3.amazonaws.com%2Fyvplans%2F20707%2F320x180.jpg&w=640&q=75)
