you have not remembered the Rock, your fortress.
Therefore, though you set out the finest plants
and plant imported vines,
though on the day you set them out, you make them grow,
and on the morning when you plant them, you bring them to bud,
yet the harvest will be as nothing
in the day of disease and incurable pain. - Is. 17:10-11 NIV
Oh, my garden. In this summer of searing heat, it has withered away. All the anticipation of an abundant harvest has come to nothing. What started out with such promise has become a wasteland. It's a reminder of how dependent we are on God. All of our plantings, our harvests, even our fruitfulness are totally dependent on him. That applies to gardens, to any work of our hands, even to nations and governments. No matter how they were created, no matter how great the promise, they all wither away without the hand of God. Those who remember him are blessed, those who do not are forgotten and left to their own devices. Nothing, no amount of water poured on the parched ground of my garden will cause it to flourish. Nothing can restore any of us once the life giving hand of God has been removed. All that will be left is parched and dead.
2010 Post - Isaiah 17-20: The Mystery of Prophecy
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