Jesus replied, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water. … 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 4:10,14 (NLT)]
When in Canada last summer, we came across a strange body of water called Medicine Lake; although it looks like a lake, it really isn’t. It’s where the Maligne River backs up before disappearing into several underground pipelines. The cave system draining this river is one of the most extensive in the world. Every spring, the runoff from melting glaciers and snow fills the river with water much faster than it can drain and, as the water backs up, the river becomes a lake. As the summer progresses, the inflow slows and the water level gradually lowers until, in autumn, it once again looks like a river. The disappearing water resurfaces far away in lakes and rivers throughout the Canadian Rockies and eventually ends up in the Pacific Ocean. Medicine Lake is like a bathtub without a stopper that is being filled faster than it can drain; once the faucet’s flow slows down, the tub’s water level lowers but it never quite empties.
On the other hand, the bogs near our northern home are more like bathtubs with drains so gunked up from hair, soap and other yucky stuff that the water can’t empty. Typically, rain and snow are the only source of a bog’s water. Formed when a lake fills with debris, a bog has little or no drainage and the water that enters it stays there. Without movement, the bog’s water becomes stagnant, gets a foul odor, and can become a breeding ground for insects, bacteria, parasites and disease. Thinking of these two bodies of water, I wondered if I’m like Medicine Lake or a bog. Like the lake, do I spread God’s blessings or, like the bog, do I keep them all to myself? The water that feeds both starts clear and fresh, but only water that flows (as it does in the lake) remains that way.
Jesus said He gives us living water, the Holy Spirit, so that we’ll never thirst again. For the water to remain fresh and sweet, however, we can’t allow it to become stagnant; it must flow in and through us and, like the water from Medicine Lake, spread far and wide. Like those underground streams, we must be His pipelines, not just of our blessings, but of the fruit of the Holy Spirit. Only when Jesus’ living water pours through us can we bring life to the world. Are we stagnant cisterns or flowing pipelines with rivers of living water flowing from our hearts?
A young pastor friend admits to not being good at reciting Bible verses from memory. A product of the computer/Internet age, he just taps in a key word or topic and, almost instantly, the verses are right in front of him in whatever translation he wants. There’s no need to memorize verses when, with just a few keystrokes, the words appear. I may read the Bible every day and predate the age of computers but I’m no better at knowing verses by heart than he. If I remember my passwords for both computer and Internet, I can find whatever verses I need. While that works when I’m researching or writing, my desk is not where most witnessing opportunities occur. I could plead age as an excuse but I didn’t memorize Bible verses even when my brain was younger and possessed far less useless trivia than it does now. My pastor friend and I both profess to love God’s word and yet we don’t seem to love it enough to learn it by heart.
Having heard that I write Christian devotions, the man looked across the dinner table and asked, “Have you always been religious?” The unexpected question from a Jewish man I barely knew caught me off guard. While I knew he wasn’t asking for a long salvation story, I needed to answer his simple question. I faltered through a brief explanation that I couldn’t remember a time I didn’t consider myself a Christian but that my faith grew deeper as it carried me through some really rough spots in life. Having no idea where I’d go from there, I heaved a sigh of relief when the table’s conversation moved to another topic.
While under arrest in Caesarea, the Apostle Paul spent two years sharing Jesus with Felix, the governor. Nevertheless, after two years of testifying about salvation through Christ, Paul couldn’t seal the deal and Felix never came to believe. I’m reminded of a charming salesman who worked for a friend of ours. Although he diligently went out and made sales calls, no matter how many times he called on a potential client, he couldn’t close a deal! Eventually, as nice as he was, he had to be let go. After all, salesmen are expected to make the sale. Fortunately, God doesn’t work that way; if He did, the Apostle Paul might have been out of a job after failing to seal the deal with Felix!
Several years ago, Pastor John, the youth pastor at our mountain church, shared his experiences while on a mission trip to Malawi, Africa. Here in the states, we expect our pastors to keep their messages to thirty-minutes so we can get a table at the Pancake House or arrive home in time for the game. In Monkey Bay, however, the pastor is likely to speak nonstop for two hours or more. Shortly before the day’s service began, the host minister, Pastor Paul, informed our young pastor that he would be speaking that morning. John quickly declined saying he hadn’t prepared a sermon. He usually worked several hours to prepare a Sunday message and was sure, without notes, he couldn’t possibly wing it for thirty minutes, let alone two hours. Pastor Paul was not to be rebuffed and insisted that John could and would do it. Paul assured him the words would come and, indeed, they did! Pastor John reported that he was still going strong two hours later! In spite of John’s fears, the words kept coming because he tapped into the power of the Holy Spirit.
We’ve left our old church and have been house-of-worship hunting. At first, it was like trying various hotels once a week to discover one of good quality with the right character, location and features for us. Having found a good prospect, we returned several times, signed up for a community service opportunity, and joined a Bible study. Now, it’s more like we’re renting a house; we’re meeting the neighbors, becoming familiar with the community and getting an idea of what a long-term stay would be like. Nevertheless, we’re still just temporary residents and have no ties. As we settle into this new church, however, our prayer is that it will feel enough like home that we’ll want to join it, which is a commitment somewhat like buying a house (but without the mortgage and closing costs.)
