You know, most of the time–as I freely admit in the sidebar–I am writing these posts mainly for myself.  This is a post I actually wrote quite awhile ago, but somehow never posted.  Again, we hear from Amy Carmichael.  This seems to be taken from a letter she wrote in response to someone else’s, someone who was experiencing dryness in prayer, and someone who had sent her some dried myrtle.

You are sitting on the well-side with your Lord who once was weary and sat thus on the well.  You don’t see Him, but He is there.  You are His honoured one: “Blessed are they that have not seen and yet have believed.”

The bog myrtle you gave me is in my Daily Light, and every day its sweetness is a special little joy to me.  It knows nothing of that.  It only knows it is dried up, a withered thing.  I wonder if in its freshest days it was sweeter than it is now.

Times of dryness are times when we are meant to live in the middle line of Zephaniah 3.17 RV margin: “He will rejoice over thee with joy.  He will be silent in His love, He will joy over thee with singing.”  Our dear Lord does not misunderstand silence.  Offer Him your silence and accept His, “I will be silent in My love.”  Songs are not far away.  They are on either side of the Silence.  It is folded up in song.

Now be at rest.  he is not looking at your with dis-pleased eyes.  Oh now, I can all but see just the opposite.