More Than the Well Could Hold

More Than the Well Could Hold

There was a well on my grandfather’s place that everybody said had gone dry. Old timers would drive past it and shake their heads. The pump handle had rusted stiff. The trough beside it had cracked in the sun until it looked like a dry riverbed shrunk down to the size of a man’s outstretched arms.

My father didn’t believe it was dry. He believed it was just tired of being asked for so little.

He primed that pump with a coffee can of water he carried from the house, worked the handle slow and steady, cussed at it some under his breath, and prayed a little too, though he never would have called it that. After a long while the pipe coughed, sputtered, and then the water came. It came clear and cold and it came like it had somewhere to be. That well gave water to two families and a herd of cattle for another eleven years. It had never been dry. It had just never been asked for enough.

I think about that well every time I read the words Paul wrote to the church at Ephesus. He said, “God is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.” Read that slow. He is not able to do a little more than we ask. He is not able to match our biggest prayer with an equal answer. He is able to do exceeding abundantly above it. He is able to do more than our imagination can carry.

Scripture

“Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us,” 

Ephesians 3:20 (KJV) 

God’s Power Has No Limits

We are creatures who live inside fences. We measure our faith by what we have already seen work. If the well has been dry before, we assume it will always be dry. But God’s power was never bound by what we have witnessed. It has no edge, no bottom, no place where it runs out. The limits we feel are ours. They were never His.

Beyond Our Prayers

Most of us pray like my father primed that pump, small and cautious, asking for just enough to get by. A little healing. A little peace. Enough to make it through the week. There is nothing wrong with those prayers. But they are often too small for what God intends to give. He is not looking to meet us halfway. He is looking to flood the trough.

Working Inside You

Here is the part that ought to stop us cold. This power is not stored somewhere far off, waiting on a better day. Paul says it works in us. Right now. In the tired heart, in the worried mind, in the body that feels like it has nothing left to give. The same power that raised a well from the dead ground is already working underneath whatever in your life looks finished.

Trust the Process

The well didn’t look like anything the day my father knelt beside it with a coffee can of water and a stubborn kind of hope. If you are staring at something in your life that looks dry, rusted shut, done, that is not the end of the story God is telling. He works behind the surface long before He works in the open. Trust what you cannot yet see moving.

Prayer

Dear God,

Thank You for Your great power that works in me. Forgive me when I doubt Your strength or limit what You can do in my life. Help me to trust You more each day. Open my eyes to see the amazing things You want to do.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Written by Jimmie Aaron Kepler, Ed.D. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license. You are welcome to share or adapt it provided proper credit is given to the author.

The Umpire of Peace

The Umpire of Peace

There was an old man who used to call balls and strikes for the youth baseball league out at the community baseball field, back before anybody paid him a dime to do it. He wasn’t fast anymore. His knees had given up on him somewhere around the first Gulf War.

But he had one gift nobody argued with, and that was his voice. When two boys collided at second base and both benches came up hollering, he didn’t run over there and referee the shouting. He just called it. Safe or out. Done.

And here’s the thing that stuck with me. Once he called it, the argument had nowhere left to live. The peace didn’t come because everybody agreed. It came because somebody had the authority to end the argument, and everybody, grumbling or not, let him.

I think about that old umpire whenever I read what Paul wrote to the church at Colossae. He tells them to let the peace of God rule in their hearts, and the word he uses there, brabeuō, is the very same word you’d use for an umpire making the call. Not a suggestion. Not a vote. A ruling.

Paul is telling us that peace isn’t supposed to be one voice shouting among many in the chaos of our own minds. Peace is supposed to be the umpire. It’s supposed to have the final say.

Most of us don’t run our hearts that way. We let fear call the game. We let the last hard conversation call the game. We let the bill we can’t pay, or the diagnosis we didn’t expect, or the grudge we’ve been nursing since summer, step up to home plate and start making the rulings.

And we wonder why we’re worn out by nine in the morning. We’ve been letting the wrong umpire work our game.

There’s another story I heard once about a fistfight that broke out at a family reunion, two grown men, brothers, over something so old and so small neither one of them could tell you how it started.

Their mother, eighty-some years old, walked out onto that lawn with a dish towel still in her hand and said one sentence. “I didn’t raise you to hate each other.” That was it. She didn’t referee the argument point by point. She made a ruling.

And it landed on both of them the same way, because that’s what real peace does. Paul says we’re called to this peace “in one body.” It’s not a private peace you keep for yourself while everybody around you stays at war. It’s a peace that has to have enough grace in it to cover the person you’re still frustrated with.

And then Paul closes the verse the way an old preacher closes a service, with something plain and something true. Be ye thankful. Because a thankful heart is a hard place for chaos to set up camp. Gratitude doesn’t argue with fear. It just quietly takes up all the space fear was hoping to use.

So here’s what I’d ask you today. When your thoughts start arguing with each other, when your heart feels like two brothers going at it on the lawn, or a collision at second base, stop and let the real umpire step in.

Let His peace make the call. Not because the noise goes quiet on its own, but because you’ve handed the authority to Somebody who has already settled the game.

Today’s Bible Verse

“And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful.”

Colossians 3:15 (KJV)

Today’s Prayer

Lord, 

I thank You that Your peace is available to me right now. When my thoughts race or my heart feels troubled, help me to pause and let Your peace rule. Guide my emotions, protect my mind, and give me a spirit of true thankfulness for all You have done. In Jesus’ name, 

Amen.