As I sit here this morning with my coffee, I hear the rain on the roof and praise God who sends the rain, as the Word says, on the just and the unjust alike! How kind and good He is and so very patient with us as a forgetful and unthankful people!

It is a dull Vermont Autumn where the trees have merely a pinkish brown hue. Leaves are being knocked to the ground in these last few days of steady rain. Leaf peepers coming north to see vibrant foliage will certainly be disappointed this year.

I am reminded of one of the first years that Sue Thomas and I came to Vermont with excitement to build WaterBrooks. We expected to see those legendary colors that bring “leaf peepers” from all over the US. Day after day that year as we looked out across our mountain, the color was disappointingly dim. At the same time we began to feel that oppressive weight of a heavy spiritual darkness. We learned the hard way that behind the picturesque quaintness of the hills and villages of Vermont is a place that has forgotten God.

Yet every town and village has been built around a little church building, many with original bells to call the people to worship. Even if the village is only a dirt road with a handful of houses, there is always an old cemetery and an even older picture perfect steepled church that was once the hub and heart of the community.

Recent statistics show, though, that Vermont has become the state with the lowest church attendance in the entire US. Sadly it’s been that way for multiple generations and most young people have never set foot inside a church building.

One morning, while sitting on the cabin porch gazing at the hills across the pond, Sue spoke these words,

“Those brown lifeless hills are a reflection of the spiritual dryness of this area! We need to be praying that God would do a work of revival and bring life back into these mountains.”

That was the moment we both realized our calling from God. Prayer. Time spent in His Presence until we become filled with Him like a cup brimming to the top, so that when it gets bumped it can spill out only goodness and grace into the lives of neighbors and friends.

The Water of Life is desperately needed, but it must come bubbling from a full fountain, not dripping out of an empty heart.

“We are going to put a Cross on that little island,” Sue announced one day. “It will shine forth as a light in the dark place and it will be a reminder that we will stay and that our feet will not be moved.”

Genesis 1 says that emptiness and darkness covered the face of the Earth, but the Spirit moved across the waters.

And God said, ‘let there be light!’ And there was light.

He moves. He speaks. And it is.

As I hear the rain on the roof, I imagine the curled leaves of dry plants relaxing and receiving. The ground is rejoicing. The brook will soon begin to sing again.

What a perfect picture of these words of Jesus, “He who believes in Me… out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.”

We must be still

so that He can fill.