water – Mind Journeys

Psalm 84 for Western Australia

¹How lovely is the place where you live,
O Lord who rules over all!
²I desperately want to be
in the courts of the Lord’s temple.
My heart and my entire being shout for joy
to the living God.

³Even the birds find a home there,
and the blue wren builds a nest,
where she can protect her young
near your altars, O Lord who rules over all,
my king and my God.
⁴How blessed are those who live in your temple
and praise you continually!

⁵How blessed are those who find their strength in you,
and long to travel the roads that lead to your temple!
⁶As they pass through the Sandy Desert,
he provides a spring for them.
The rain even covers it with pools of water.
⁷They are sustained as they travel along;
in their hearts is the highway to Zion.

⁸O Lord, sovereign God,
hear my prayer!
Listen, O God of Jacob!
⁹O God, take notice of our shield!
Show concern for your chosen king!

¹⁰Certainly spending just one day in your temple courts is better
than spending a thousand elsewhere.
I would rather stand at the entrance to the temple of my God
than live in the houses of the wicked.

¹¹For the Lord God is our sovereign protector.
The Lord bestows favour and honor;
he withholds no good thing from those who have integrity.
¹²O Lord who rules over all,
how blessed are those who trust in you!

New English Translation (NET)

NET Bible® copyright ©1996-2006 by Biblical Studies Press, L.L.C. http://netbible.com All rights reserved.

gnamma-hole-mukinbudin — Gnamma hole, Mukinbudin, W.A. Courtesy Wheatbelttourism.com

Flowing from me – a song for Lent 3

When I leave behind the happiness I know,
called to travel tracks to only God knows where,
I feel the pain of friends and passions left behind,
and the tug of nostalgia is an ache and a snare.

Then he strikes the rock and the waters are flowing
from me, from me,
Then he strikes the rock and the waters are flowing
through me, through me.

When I walk along the desert’s rock path
called to empty my heart and travel so dry,
When the lack of consoling is a tense mystery;
for leaving the old world I want to know why.

Then he strikes the rock and the waters are flowing
from me, from me,
Then he strikes the rock and the waters are flowing
through me, through me.

When I climb the rocks, and scrabble up the scarps
and scratch my hands and tear away my skin,
I’m weak and cannot continue in the heights,
I’ve come to the end for the air is too thin.

Then he strikes the rock and the waters are flowing
from me, from me,
Then he strikes the rock and the waters are flowing
through me, through me.

When friends make me riled and stir me around,
when political gain is everyone’s aim,
I can’t comprehend how believers behave,
With no care or compassion, simply spread blame.

Then he strikes the rock and the waters are flowing
from me, from me,
Then he strikes the rock and the waters are flowing
through me, through me.

When the nights are long and the travel is hard
It seems my faith can be gone without trace
and no way forward in the dry can be found.
I’m rocked and surprised by God’s presence and grace.

Then he strikes the rock and the waters are flowing
from me, from me,
Then he strikes the rock and the waters are flowing
through me, through me.

Ted Witham 2017
Is there a song-writer who would like to collaborate with me by refining this text and setting it to music? Reply via Comments.

A Water-Hole Gushing Up To Eternal Life

I’m a proud Noongar woman. I belong to this country. And I know how to open the gnamma hole to get water. I know what to sing to the spirits. I shout loudly to tell them that I’m coming. “Kaya! Ngany nidja!” I call, “Hello! I am here! Woolah! Ngany nidja!” I’m about to throw sand down the gnamma hole to purify the water, when this wadulah man appears.

He’s a wadulah and he’s a man. He thinks he knows everything and he thinks he owns our country.

But he waits, back where I called the spirits, and says to me, respectful-like: ‘Can you get me some water, Aunty?’

I’m a bit surprised. I’ve never heard a wadulah ask before. For anything. If they know where the gnamma hole is they rip the top off and help themselves. I’m a bit suspicious too. ‘What wadulah asks a Noongar woman to get him a drink?’ I ask.

‘If you knew who was asking you,’ he says, ‘you would ask him for living water.’

‘Where would you get living water?’ I ask him, ‘You got no gnamma hole and you got no spirits here. Our ancestors told us how the gnamma hole was made, and how the Wagul passed through the country. You’re not greater than the ancestors, are you?’

He said, ‘When you drink your water you get thirsty again. But whoever drinks the water I give will never get thirsty again. The water I give will be a water-hole gushing up to eternal life.’

I didn’t know whether to laugh or run away from this wadulah. ‘You’d better give me some of your water,’ I says, ‘so I don’t have to come out to the gnamma hole to get it no more.’

So he said to me, ‘Go and get your husband and come back here.’

‘Ain’t got no husband.’

He says, ‘Too right you’ve got no husband. You’ve had five husbands. But the man you’re living with now is not your Law husband.’

I swallowed. ‘Uncle, you must be a prophet. Our ancestors called on the spirits on this mountain and you wadulahs say people should worship in church.’

He replied, ‘Believe me, Aunty, time is coming when you will worship the Father not on this hill nor in church. You worship spirits you do not know. We worship God because he brings salvation. But time is coming when true worshippers will worship the Father in a real true spirit. The Father is looking out for people to be his true worshippers. God is spirit.’

I says, ‘The Mission told us Christ will come and when he comes, he will tell us everything.’ Then he turns to me and puts it to me: ‘I, this one talking to you, I am he. ‘

Just then, his followers came back. They looked shocked to see him talking to me, but they didn’t say to me, ‘What are you after?’ or to him ‘Why are you speaking with her?’ I dropped my water-can and ran down into the camp shouting to everyone, ‘I’ve met someone who’s told me everything I’ve ever done. Could he be Christ? Whoever he is, he’s made me proud of being me!’