Children are often the thirstiest when their mother is in the room. Every mother knows this through lived experience: our children are their “most real” selves with the caregivers who are present the most. My daughter might hide her pain or fear from a babysitter, putting on a brave face and “sucking it up” when I’m away. But the moment I am near, she no longer has to hide. She runs to me in her need because my presence is her permission to be vulnerable.
In the same way, we have a Father who provides for His children. True intimacy with our Father is built the same way: our neediness is amplified in His presence. When we are thirsty, we realize more than ever that our Father is capable of giving us water so that we may “thirst no more.” It is in the raw, unpolished moments of our dependency that bring our awareness to His Fatherly provision. We move beyond mere ‘religion’ and into a resilient, living friendship with the Creator, when we are honest about our needs.
He is constantly at work throughout the world, tending to heartache and sickness. We are a needy people. When Jesus walked among us, His nearness made us realize just how deep our dependency was. Like moths drawn to a light, the weary and the broken swarmed Him (Mark 3:7-12). They didn’t follow Him because they were healthy or whole; they followed Him because they were desperate for His touch (Matthew 9:20-22; Mark 2:1-17).
Moms, does that sound familiar? Just as my daughter’s needs become louder when I walk through the door, God’s nearness makes us more acutely aware of our own hunger and exhaustion. In the light of His sufficiency and power, we realize that nothing in this world truly compares (Philippians 3:8). We actually feel weaker in His presence (Matthew 11:28-30), not because He diminishes us, but because only in that vulnerable closeness can we make room for His sufficient Grace (2 Cor 12:9). He does not heal by shouting from a distance. He lays His hands on us, looking us in the face. That is the intimacy His power requires.
Thankfully, God became man and understands exactly what this dependency feels like. He wept in the garden; He was tempted in the wilderness; He was moved to anger by injustice. He knows our limits and longs to restore us to a “perpetual spring.” His heart is set on the restoration of all Creation, beginning with us.
He is a caretaking God—mending, feeding, healing, and washing. We see this in the Word, and we see it in the evidence of His Providence all around us today.
—Meg Strickland is a wife and mother of three girls. She was born and raised in Nashville, TN. Meg earned a master’s degree in Political Management from George Washington University, before settling in Marietta, GA.
