by By Tohru Inoue
There is a tiny community in Kenya’s northern border town that has several beautiful looking oases. They are picture-perfect: surrounded by trees and shade. It’s a beautiful reprieve in this semi-arid region.
Hard to believe but a few years ago there was a severe drought in the region. The water points in this little community all dried up. There was nothing for the people or their animals. Both wild and domestic livestock died in their thousands across the country. It all seemed like a terrible waste.
The drought finally came to an end last year with a downpour. Flooding, actually. Sadly, the floods contaminated the oases in this community, and they became unfit for human or animal consumption. A terrible waste.
But being there this year, you would never have known there was a drought. The oases look pristine. But that’s the tragedy: water in abundance but not a drop of it can be enjoyed. It looks like hope but it doesn’t deliver.
In contrast, I was in a clinic several hundred miles away where folks were able to drill a well. They got water! Even after much of it is sent to supply the town and the clinic’s own water tower, it still gushes out between the fittings and runs down the street. It runs out through the gap in the perimeter wall and down the dirt road, following the gentle slope. Seeing all that water running down the road felt like such a colossal waste.
I have to say, seeing an oasis with water you can’t drink feels better than a spring with good water that’s wasted. The water kept flowing out onto the street.
I suppose it’s like manna from the sky. A lot of it went to waste in that desert. They stepped all over it when they went out to collect it and came home. It was stuck on the soles of their sandals or trampled under animal hooves. Being more than they could possibly collect, some went bad right where it lay. Perfectly good manna went to waste every, single, day.
Or the clinic well situation may more closely match the water from the rock that Moses struck. The water went flowing down the gentle slope and into the desert valley. It ran all night, even as everyone slept. Like a faucet left on through the night.
Feels like such a waste. None more wasteful than God’s grace seems to be, I suppose. Blood and water running down the gentle dirt slope. A daily grace offered, even now, that is not fully received. It’s freely offered but it feels like some of it just goes to waste in the dirt. Feels that way.
Back at the clinic, I was told there is a man down the road who’s been channeling some of the water from the road. He’s set up a little greenhouse. He’s planted some vegetables and has harvested already. Standing by the source, I would never see that. But, there are people downstream who are quietly thanking God for his provision.God’s grace poured out may feel like a waste. It may feel that way if you’re just standing at the outlet watching it pour out. It may feel less so if you follow it downstream a little. Not everyone is standing that close to the source.
The water flows down the slope. His grace can travel a great distance. Some folks may be closer, others further away, but we’re all downstream from grace. Whether close to the source or far, his waters will eventually reach us all. That means it’ll reach you too. And it won’t be wasted.
Tohru Inoue serves as a missionary with SIM Kenya. This article was first published on https://open.substack.com/pub/tohruinoue/p/such-a-waste?r=2vluod&utm_medium=ios
