The first time I tried to hard-boil eggs, I assumed it would take at least 45 minutes. However, in much less time than this, I smelled egg shells burning and heard the eggs literally popping like heavy popcorn in the parched saucepan.

Over the course of this week, I also became parched. The week was not all that unusual; I woke up early, put all my energy into my responsibilities at work, picked my children up from school, put all my energy into playing with them outdoors and doing homework with them indoors. I tackled the insurmountable pile of clean unfolded laundry, I performed the futile ritual of cleaning a house that never stays that way. I did my best to feed my growing boys well-balanced meals on this week’s sale items at the grocery store. I worked some more from home to squeeze every possible hour’s pay out of my paycheck. As I said, nothing unusual. Then why did I feel so parched? Even my boss commented that I looked extra tired, to the point that she was concerned about me.

Two weeks ago, as I often do when I need to lasso my thoughts into the neatness of a journal, I decided to limit myself to a single typed line for each topic that was “on my mind.” Writing it down on paper is like making my worries go on a diet. They lose a lot of their weight – it’s easier to give burdens to God when they are labeled in black and white. I felt like I had pretty much captured everything when I had gotten to Line #72 (but of course, I thought of more as soon as I had turned my computer off). Yet even with 72 items weighing on my mind, I didn’t feel parched. I felt like God was in control and ever-present to refresh me.

So what was different this week? I can trace it to a decision I made on Monday. In order to get to work 30 minutes earlier (and therefore work from home less), I decided to move my Quiet Times from early mornings to evenings. Not wrong in theory, but it didn’t work for me in practice. Not spending time with God during my only “alone” time of each day (before my family is awake in the morning) meant I forgot to spend time with Him when others required my attention throughout the each evening.

Sundays are particularly draining to me because of how much I care for those God has placed in my path at church – the 4th and 5th graders in my Sunday School class, the other ministers’ wives, the new Christians who are struggling, the older Christians who need a hug and friendly smile, the people sitting in pews around me who may need some encouragement to respond to the invitation at the end of the sermon. So when I woke up this Sunday morning, I knew that I had to be filled with ‘fresh water’ first, for no parched saucepan should attempt to minister when it has nothing to give.

I pulled out an ‘old’ Bible study and started letting God minister to me. I’m like a student that must relearn the same lesson over and over again – again, I expected God to chastise me, to say, ‘I told you so!’ – to condemn me. I felt guilty for only having one meaningful Quiet Time with Him all week. I expected harsh Scriptures to come to the forefront of whatever book of the Bible that I opened. But instead, my Savior did what I never understood until this morning – He ‘cleansed [me] by the washing of water with the Word’ (Ephesians 5:25-27). He refilled my parched saucepan with the living water that comes only from Christ. He loved on me with words like ‘crown of beauty instead of ashes… garment of praise instead of despair…’ (Isaiah 61:1-3). He refreshed me with words like, ‘No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love Him.’ (1 Corinthians 2:9).

Jesus, thank You for loving me, for refreshing me, for being the Living Water- the only One who can truly fill and satisfy me. Fill me again, and help me to do better with my Quiet Times with You this week so I can receive from You and pour it out to others – not burnt stale religion but the fresh thirst-quenching water of the only One who can truly satisfy us in this life.