Jesus replied, “Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again. But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.” [John 4:13-14 (NLT)]
For a state that receives over 55-inches of rain a year, the words “Florida drought” seem an oxymoron. Nevertheless, southwest Florida is in moderate drought and the water in the swamp is receding at record pace. The dry down of the swamp concentrates fish into the shallow water that remains and they become easy prey for the wading birds. There is a feeding frenzy as hundreds of birds (and several alligators) gather to enjoy a virtual buffet table lined with fish, frogs, and crayfish. The water in the swamp sustains these beautiful birds and, when it evaporates, they will fly elsewhere. I watched in awe as the birds vied for spots in the diminishing lakes and thought about the importance of water.
About 60% of the human body is made up of water and every living cell needs it to function. It lubricates joints, regulates temperature, flushes waste, and carries nutrients through the body. We can last three weeks without food but we can last only three to five days without water (and as little as three to four hours in extreme heat). Once deprived of water, the cells and organs of the body start to deteriorate. Water in our bodies is the difference between life and death.
Jesus offers us living water and His water truly is the difference between life and death. The water in the swamp is not living water – with no springs, it’s really just a large cistern that collects rain and will eventually evaporate. When the water is gone, only some vultures eating the scraps will remain. The living water offered by Jesus is never-ending; it is poured out in all seasons and will never disappear. Unlike the birds, we don’t have to fight for our spot in the pond or, like the Samaritan woman, come to the well. All we have to do is ask for the living water of eternal life. One drink of His Holy Spirit and we’ll never thirst again.
I find it ironic that some of the last words spoken by the man who offered living water were, “I am thirsty.” [John 19:28] Dehydrated by the torture He’d endured, was it just His dry mouth that led to those words? Did He thirst for the end of His pain and suffering? Or did He make a final demonstration of His humanity by speaking words that showed how much he thirsted for fellowship with God? Let us gather at His table, drink deep of His love, wash in His forgiveness, and never thirst again.
As for the “House of Lost Dreams,” about which I wrote yesterday—almost overnight, where once a dilapidated ruin stood, a beautiful house now stands. The roof tiles are repaired and clean, the house is freshly painted, the overgrown yard tamed, and a “For Sale” sign stands in the yard.
For the last several years, we’ve frequently driven by a house we called the “House of Lost Dreams.” Apparently forsaken by both bank and borrower, we watched as tarps blew off windows, roof tiles grew black with mold, and ivy and kudzu grew on the walls. Eventually, plants nearly obscured the deteriorating house from view as Mother Nature took back ownership of the land.
We’d purchased a gift card at a grocery store for someone in serious financial straits and started talking about her, wondering how she got so deep in debt. A lot of unwise decisions combined with the loss of employment and topped off by major health issues was the answer. We then reminded ourselves that our task is not to analyze the hows, whys, could haves and shouldn’t haves of her or anyone else’s life—our task is simply to lay some love on our neighbors.
Our pastor once told the story of a recently married parishioner. After a long day of travel, he and his new wife finally arrived at their hotel. The groom hoisted the bride in his arms and opened the door to their deluxe suite. It had a beautiful view of the beach, a small kitchenette, and an elaborate entertainment system. What it didn’t appear to have was a bed! They finally checked the sofa and discovered it was a hide-a-bed. They were exhausted and, deciding it was too late to complain, the newlyweds unfolded the bed and settled in. Like most hide-a-beds, this one had a thin mattress and two supporting bars that seemed to dig into whatever part of the body was downward. The couple tossed and turned and, needless to say, their honeymoon night did not meet their expectations.
Carrying posters, displaying bumper stickers, wearing t-shirts, or hash tagging with the words, “He’s not my president!” changes absolutely nothing. After today, he is. How we voted, who got the popular vote, whether we’re happy or outraged, whether we have faith in him or not makes no difference. This is what we have for the next four years.
