June 13, 1976, 12:42 AM, Anderson, Indiana
To meditate on God, His Word and Wisdom, is more rest to me than many hours’ sleep.
O God, sleep has left me tonight. Yet weariness, also, seems far away.
My thoughts have been of you. Oh, the books of theology, the hours of sermons, I could write & preach, from these nocturnal meditations!! Yet let me not grasp at them like Alice at the reeds, lest I too find the loveliest just beyond reach, and those that I collect melting away in my hands. For if these thoughts must go in a book, I think I can trust You to give again what I have lost…. and if indeed I must preach on these same topics, still must it not be Your Word, fresh and new, and spoken to me just as freshly by your spirit, lest I give, instead of the Bread of Life, stale crumbs from my own attic? How easily is Living Water transformed into a stagnant pool! One has only to stop its flow and try to store it for later (as with Midas and his gold, or even certain Israelites with their manna).
Witness the miserly one going daily to drink of his little pool, finding it daily more stale and muddy and distasteful…. till he complains against the One who first promised him and gave him that Living water which… if he would but turn and look…. is still springing from the Fountain, free for whosoever will.
What needs to be destroyed is the work & labor of his own hands… namely, that dam he has built that would keep the water from flowing where and as fast as it would.
This is the parable. If I have eyes to see, when I read it again, the interpretation will need no explanation. 1:17 AM.