A few years back, my husband, Paul, and I went to this crazy paradise called Havasu Falls in Arizona. Seriously—you have to see it to believe how beautiful it is! Imagine five crystal-clear waterfalls cut into red rocks, falling dramatically into turquoise-blue pools. Think Maui crossed with the Grand Canyon, and you get the idea.
The only catch is that you have to get there on foot. Like walking. The ten miles in wasn’t so bad. It was the trip out that got me. Hiking ten miles with a thirty-pound pack is no walk in the park to begin with. Add to that a 2,400-foot elevation gain through a bone-dry, rocky canyon, and you’ll forgive me for feeling a little tired—and thirsty.
There’s only one trail connecting the outside world to the Havasu Indian village at the bottom of the canyon, so the villagers send pack mules up and down with mail, soda, toilet paper—you know, the important stuff. Well the mule train that had just come down happened to be carrying fruit. I love fruit. And there must have been a small hole in one of the crates, because every few feet along the trail we saw a single green grape lying in the dirt.
At first it was funny to smoosh them with my hiking boots. But after a mile or so, I started getting really thirsty. Mind you, I’d eaten nothing but camp food and energy bars for a few days, and those green, plump, juicy grapes started getting all up in my head. Another mile further on the trail I found myself thinking, They don’t really even look dirty. Maybe I’ll try just one. So I picked up a vegetarian road kill, rinsed it off with my water bottle and popped it into my mouth. Hmmm . . . surprisingly refreshing, I thought. Never mind my dear husband laughing out loud at me—I was hooked.
For the last several miles of our hike out of Havasu, I quenched my thirst with dusty green grapes. Even admitting this on paper has me questioning my mental stability. I guess that’s the point, though. I was sooo parched that I became irrational. I justified my actions because I was basically desperate.
There is a point to this embarrassing confession. It has to do with one of my favorite verses, tucked away near the end of the book of Proverbs:
A person who is full refuses honey, but even bitter food tastes sweet to the hungry (Prov. 27:7).
When we leave a God-shaped hole in our heart gaping open, we become desperate to fill it.
If I hadn’t been as parched as a salamander in the Sahara, eating dirty grapes off a trail would have sounded ridiculous. But because I was desperate to quench my thirst, I was willing to compromise my standards of cuisine and justified eating those grapes.
That’s the danger of not finding our everything in God. When we leave a God-shaped hole in our heart gaping open, we become desperate to fill it. When we’re hungry (for God), relationships that would have been an easy “no way” if we were full become irrationally appealing. That’s why smart, beautiful girls get into relationships with bad boys, or why girls committed to their purity compromise their values with guys who don’t respect them. So here’s my paraphrase of Proverbs 27:7:
A girl who lets God “make” her is free to say no to even a great guy, but a girl who is desperate for love and attention will be tempted by even destructive relationships.
Let’s be the kind of girls that are so satisfied in God that we won’t be tempted to settle for anything less than the best—a healthy relationship with a godly man, in God’s perfect timing. Anything less than that is like eating dirty grapes!
I want to know, are you satisfied in God right now, or are some “dirty grapes” getting all up in your head? Leave a comment for a chance to win a signed copy of Crushed!
Love this post? Share it! Here’s a tweet you can totally steal from us: