When the River Jumped Its Banks

In the summer of 1993, the small farming community of Hardin, Montana, watched the Bighorn River swell past its banks after weeks of relentless rain. Water that had always flowed in a single channel — predictable, contained, controlled — suddenly spread across the entire valley floor. It seeped into irrigation ditches that hadn't carried water in years. It filled stock ponds on ranches too far from the river to ever benefit from it. Old Earl Swanson's barren east pasture, cracked and dusty for a decade, turned green almost overnight. The river didn't ask who owned the land. It didn't check property lines or water rights. It simply went everywhere.

That is the picture Joel paints when the prophet declares that the Almighty will pour out His Spirit on all flesh. For centuries, the Spirit of God had moved through select vessels — a prophet here, a priest there, a king when the occasion demanded. The river of God's presence ran in a narrow, guarded channel. But Joel saw something coming that would change everything. Sons and daughters prophesying. Old men dreaming dreams. Young women seeing visions. Servants — the people at the very bottom of the social order — carrying the same Spirit as kings.

God was not rationing His presence anymore. He was flooding the valley. And every cracked, dry life in its path would turn green again.