My dear flock,
We return now to the three kings in the wilderness of Edom in a dry valley. Jehoram thought that the LORD had gathered them there, to deliver them into the hand of Moab.
Then the word of the Lord came by Elisha:
“Make this valley full of ditches.”
What a strange command. Ditches for what, exactly? There was no water to contain, or rain gathering above the hills. The ground was bone dry. Yet Israel was commanded to trench the valley in anticipation of something God would do.
In this we can see another type of preparation. When the LORD will bring water, His people are to make room for it. They could only open the ground. Only God could open the heavens and pour out a blessing. “Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy; break up your fallow ground: for it is time to seek the LORD, till he come and rain righteousness upon you” (Hosea 10:12).
A ditch is made by taking something out. The ground must be broken up and cast aside. What was there must be removed before something else can fill it. This is a downward work. The deeper the hollow, the greater it speaks of emptiness.
Communion preparation must involve digging. The seed of the Word lands on ground trafficked by ordinary feet. No surface breaks, where feet have passed back and forth. Digging it is hard. We uncover stones, roots, and dirt that long lay fallow. Each thrust or heave makes the heart feel empty.
We dislike emptiness. We are quick to fill it with whatever we can. Spiritual emptiness is a wondrous thing at the Table. Our flesh wants to come to the Table, able to report some goodness, some acceptable progress. The Lord will have us dig all these assurances out.
A ditch has nothing to offer the water. Its use consists in its need.
“Make this valley full of ditches.”
Not one ditch, or two. Make this valley, the whole topography, full of canals. Perhaps that is why preparation must enter every part of us. There are ditches to be dug all over, where the promise of Christ has been wanting.
Prayer excavates. The law digs. Meditating on the sufferings of Christ furrow deeper still. None of these are water. They only receive what Jesus Christ alone can give.
If we are honest, there are communion seasons where we approach without sensible tenderness. We read and feel little; we sometimes pray, we heal ourselves lightly and shall we be surprised to discover dryness without and within. Here, the soul is tempted to leave the valley untouched, because it’s easier just to wait.
Dig.
Faith believes that in spite of the weather, grace will rain over our ditches. Our Savior will come, dear soul, and will not tarry.
“And it came to pass in the morning, when the meat offering was offered, that, behold, there came water.”
The water came with the morning sacrifice, far away in Jerusalem. A lamb was found and was laid and slain upon the altar. In Edom, empty ditches began to fill. The army looked, and the hopeless ditches began to fill with the mercy of God.
At the Lord’s Table we look toward the one True sacrifice. Christ has been offered once for sin, and from His riven side flows every supply of grace. We bring no water with us. Oh, to come parched to the crucified One, whose blood and Spirit slake us.
Do not expect by digging, what only Jesus can give. Take up the spade, dear one. Let it do its furrowing work. Break up your ground. Carry away the dirt of self-sufficiency, “till He come, and rain righteousness upon you.”
Leave the filling of your dry soul, to our well-spring, Jesus Christ…poured out for you.
Your friend and pastor,
J. Lewis
Nothing in my hand I bring, only to Thy cross I cling. Rain your righteousness down on my empty ditches Lord and fill me to overflowing with Thyself and Thy love, compassion and zeal to Thy honor, glory and praise alone