I grew up on the prairies with vast stretches of land almost
level and an overturned cup of blue sky above us. We knew snow and rain, but
also months of sunshine and often very dry days. I had a horse and I knew a
place. It was on the slight hill west of our farm, not on our land but there
were no fences so I rode there now and then.
I’d discovered a depression gouged out of the flat hilltop.
It contained the most marvelous thing — an artesian well that bubbled up to
wash away the soil from sandstone beneath it, then ripple over the sandstone
and go back under the earth from which it came. Someone had put a pipe in the
flow so if you bowed on your knees and cupped your hands or laid on your belly
beside it, you could drink the purest and sweetest water — especially wonderful
on those hot, dry summer days.
This is the image that fills my mind when Jesus talks about
living water . . .
Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:13–14)
It is not a river. If you are not looking for it, you will
not see it. If you are not willing to lower yourself you cannot drink from it.
If you do not capture the water it will return to the source from which it
came.
Chambers talks about being a source for this living water,
but since God does not let me in on when He is doing that, it is easier to
think about those others who have been a fountain of living water for me. This
is a long list that includes my first mentor, several pastors, a few friends,
many authors, the Word of God of course, and of course Jesus Himself.
While Jesus wants me to be a center through which He can
flow these living waters to bless others, I need Him as my center in order for
that to happen. Like Chambers says, I cannot be like the Dead Sea, always
taking in but never giving out. What He gives me is not just for me, but if I
suppose it is and cling to my blessings, then others will not be blessed.
Corrie Ten Boom, strong Christian and holocaust survivor
said, “I have learned not to hold on too tight to anything, for it hurts when
God pries my fingers loose.” Nevertheless, it is the human tendency to hold
tight to the good things. We are fearful of losing them, but is it not true
that if God wants me to have even what I give away, He will supply more of the
same?
Even in the worst of years, that well never ran dry. I’ve
often wondered why the farmer who owned the field where the well was located
did not put a fence around it to keep away animals and people. Or why did he
not built a large sign pointing to it and put a machine in place that took
money for each sip?
But he didn’t do that. It is free, but must be sought,
just like the water of life offered by Jesus.