A pilgrim is wandering around the dilapidated buildings and streets, of a wasteland.
Perched and dry.
No one in sight.
Nothing but scraps, and sweat, and then, finally…
A well.
A small well and a bucket to bring up something cool from the ground.
Oh, for that refreshment!
That splash of drink. That life-giving liquid.
And then, behold!
It’s not water at all.
It’s a celebration.
It’s wine.
Psalms 104:10-18
He makes springs pour water into the ravines;
it flows between the mountains.They give water to all the beasts of the field;
the wild donkeys quench their thirst.
The birds of the sky nest by the waters;
they sing among the branches.He waters the mountains from his upper chambers;
the land is satisfied by the fruit of his work.
He makes grass grow for the cattle,
and plants for people to cultivate—
bringing forth food from the earth:wine that gladdens human hearts,
oil to make their faces shine,
and bread that sustains their hearts.
The trees of the Lord are well watered,
the cedars of Lebanon that he planted.There the birds make their nests;
the stork has its home in the junipers.The high mountains belong to the wild goats;
the crags are a refuge for the hyrax.
