French Drains in My Soul

A closer look at why God compares his Spirit with water.

If you follow me on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram, you’ve likely seen pictures of the ambitious landscaping project I’ve recently undertaken in my backyard: French Drains!

It all began six years ago when we bought our current house. I noted to the developer at the time that our backyard was an odd shape. It rose on both sides and sunk in the middle. This, they said, was by design, because rainwater was meant to flow out of the backyard, around the sides of the house, and out to the street. I accepted this without question, because I am not a landscaper.

Unfortunately, every year, particularly during the winter when it rains a lot, that sunken middle part got lower. I’ve learned that this is due to soil erosion, because our yard was not properly graded. As the topsoil washed away, thick sticky clay was exposed, the water pooled, the grass died, and duckweed took its place.

Yes, I had duckweed growing in stagnant puddles in my yard. Toads, gnats, and mosquitos loved it. So did my kids and the dog, if we’re being honest. But for Jason and I it became an utter nightmare. We couldn’t let the girls play out there and Luna the husky puppy had to be taken out on a leash.

Anyway, the point of all this backstory is to explain that I’ve been digging.

I’ve been digging a lot.

In fact, I’ve dug 300 feet of trenches in the past two weeks, sometimes getting down on my hands and knees to dig around the sprinkler system and internet cables with a hand trowel. It’s exhausting, messy, mindless work, and subsequently, I got to thinking about the ancient Israelites.

That probably seems like a weird logical leap, so bear with me.

In the Bible, God compares his Spirit to water. For example, Isaiah 44:3 says, “I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour my Spirit upon your offspring, and my blessing on your descendants.”

For the Israelites, this metaphor would have had deeply rich meaning. After all, they weren’t connected to the local municipal water district. They couldn’t get fresh drinking water by pressing a button on their fridge. They couldn’t water their crops and gardens by turning on a sprinkler system. So, they dug wells. They leveled the ground to plant fields for grain, vineyards, and orchards. They dug trenches to funnel rainwater where it needed to go. Of course, they wouldn’t have called these French drains. Maybe Mesopotamian drains or something.

Regardless, as I was digging in my yard, I became fascinated with the idea that I was doing something that people have done for thousands of years. This activity, among other things, would have informed the Israelite’s understanding of God’s description of his Spirit.

As I continued to dig and think, I began pulling junk out of the ground that was left behind by the builders; excess shingles, chunks of wood, three Pepsi cans, an orange shoelace, broken bricks, blobs of concrete, scrap metal, a large stake, an assortment of nails, a Snickers wrapper, and a worrisome amount of duct tape.

Every time I pulled a piece of trash out of the ground, water poured in to fill the void.

And I got to thinking, this is how spiritual growth works, isn’t it? As we dig through the Bible and ponder God’s Word in our hearts, we expand our knowledge about him. In addition, we’re almost constantly pulling out bad ideas, misunderstandings, or misconceptions about who God is and what he’s said. At least, I am. And as we pull out this spiritual junk – those wads of erroneous doctrine, chunks of misinformation, and bits of broken theology – the Spirit pours into the void left behind. He seeps a little deeper into our souls, irrigating our minds, working his way around the roots of our heart.

But this garbage in our heads – whether it’s an incomplete version of a story we remember from a children’s bible, or a man-centered interpretation of a verse we misread – blocks up our growth. God faithfully pours out his Spirit, but he doesn’t sink in, at least, not everywhere and not the whole way. He sits on the surface, softening our hearts, bringing our attention to problem areas in our life. He floods us until we recognize our issues, dig out our sins, and rid ourselves of ignorance.

To be sure, much of this is an act of God. It is God who takes our sins away. It is God who wakes us up to the reality of our need for him. It is God who empowers us to see our powerlessness. Nevertheless, our response to his work is to work as well. As Paul wrote to our fellow believers in Philippians 2:12-13:

“Therefore, my beloved … work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”

In Psalm 1, David writes that a righteous person, “is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither.”

So, we have this beautiful concept that it is God who plants us and waters us, so that we may bear good fruit. And this takes me back to those fields in the Promised Land; to those Mesopotamian drains (or something) in ancient Israel. It’s an arid country, so every drop of rain was precious. Farmers would have dug trenches around and through their fields, funneling water where it needed to go, leading that life-giving rain to the roots of their trees, vines, and vegetables. They didn’t want any to fall by the wayside. They didn’t want it to run off into the streets, down the storm drains, and out into the Jordan. They wanted it to seep in deep into their land, to water the roots, and grow healthy, hearty harvests.

Just so, we need to be looking at the spiritual landscape of our hearts with a strategic eye. What junk can we remove to let God’s Spirit seep in a little more? What dirt and stone can we tunnel out so that the Word flows freely in? What distractions, misunderstandings, biases, and baggage can we excavate so Jesus reigns in the void left behind? Where do we need God’s Spirit to go in our lives?

Obviously, we need him everywhere.

But what specific areas in your life – your behavior, your attitudes, your relationships, your routine – do you need a special in-pouring of the Spirit? I’d encourage you (as I myself work on this as well), to dig trenches in your heart to the areas that are the hardest, so that the Spirit can soften, water, and enrich you.

And yeah, it may mean hard and back-breaking work. Like me, metaphorically, you may have to get down on your hands and knees in the mud with a little spade.

But my friends, the results will be worth it.

Much love,

Jenn