GIVE ME THE SPRINGS ALSO

Eight months ago, I received what I believed was a dream come true - an answered prayer. I was elected as the Sisters’ Coordinator in my campus fellowship, and it felt like destiny unfolding before my eyes.

This wasn’t a random appointment. In my second year, God had already whispered the possibility to my heart. And for two years, I prayed almost daily for my sisters. Their pain pierced me. Their stories stirred something deep within me - a burden, a call, and a compassion so raw that I often found myself dreaming of a women’s foundation where I could listen, counsel, and heal.

Even before the office came, many sisters trusted me. They came to me with their wounds, and I knew I carried grace for this. But I also believed the influence would be more potent if it flowed through the structure of leadership. So when the interview came, I boldly declared, "I’d gladly serve my sisters." I had my vision clear, my plans outlined, and the love of my sisters - what could go wrong?

I started strong. Our first prayer meeting was powerful. I cast the vision like Habakkuk - made it plain on tablets so all could run. I believed we would raise Deborahs, birth Jaels, and awaken Esthers. Oh, what a time to be alive - to serve God and humanity!

But two months in, the dew of mercy seemed to dry up.

The remaining five months felt like fifteen years. Every effort met resistance. I poured myself into seminars, late-night planning sessions, retreats, and one-on-one check-ins. I tweaked strategies, adjusted formats, made things more relatable, more engaging. But nothing worked. Nothing changed.

I was drained - emotionally, spiritually, mentally. The zeal that once drove me now felt like chains. I began to question the convictions I once held so dear. Were they real or just emotional ambition dressed up as compassion? I couldn’t wait for the tenure to end. I was burnt out. Bone-dry.

One quiet afternoon, I found myself parked on a scripture I’d read more than ten times in 30 minutes:

“So she said to him, ‘Give me a blessing; since you have given me land in the South, give me also springs of water.’ And Caleb gave her the upper springs and the lower springs.” — Judges 1:15

I’d read it many times, but now something stirred. A question rose gently in my spirit:

 “Why would she be so greedy to ask for springs after her father had already given her something as huge as a land?”

I didn’t have an answer.

So I dug deeper. I studied the land in question - it was arid. Without springs, nothing could grow. So while it felt like the gift of the land was already huge, she knew that without a source of irrigation there'll be little profit from that land.

Just then I heard Him clearly:

“I gave you a land, and with excitement, you ran off without springs.

Your labors have not yielded because the land is hard.

You have their ears, but not their hearts.

And even now, your hands are blistered from work, yet the ground has yielded no increase.

You could have asked… and I would have given you both the upper and the lower springs.”

That was it.

I had received the land - the office, the trust, the influence. I had strategy, I had vision. But I forgot to ask for the springs. I had rushed off with good seed but no water. I forgot that good seed wasn't the only factor needed for great harvest. I relied on plans instead of prayer, and passion instead of presence. My sisters’ lives didn’t just need another seminar - they needed the saturation of the Spirit. They needed revival - not reform.

I wept.

For all the needless pain I bore. For the burnout that prayer could’ve prevented. For the souls I tried to carry in my own strength. For the dry ground I tried to till with dry hands. Now I'm counting years and not fruits. I cried aloud:

 “Lord, You have given me this land. Give me also the springs.

I don’t want to labour in vain. I don’t want good intentions with no divine irrigation.

Give me the upper springs. Give me also the lower springs.”

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Strength is an essential commodity in our walk and service to God. But what happens when we exert so much strength with so little a result? We get burnouts

There's a place for irrigation for every land. Do not get your hands blistered with little or no increase. Over that flock the Lord has committed to you, will you join me in crying,"GIVE ME ALSO THE SPRINGS"?