Parched

Parched

On the last day, the climax of the festival, Jesus stood and shouted to the crowds, “Anyone who is thirsty may come to me! Anyone who believes in me may come and drink! For the Scriptures declare, ‘Rivers of living water will flow from his heart.’” (When he said “living water,” he was speaking of the Spirit, who would be given to everyone believing in him. But the Spirit had not yet been given, because Jesus had not yet entered into his glory.) When the crowds heard him say this, some of them declared, “Surely this man is the Prophet we’ve been expecting.” Others said, “He is the Messiah.” Still others said, “But he can’t be! Will the Messiah come from Galilee? For the Scriptures clearly state that the Messiah will be born of the royal line of David, in Bethlehem, the village where King David was born.” So the crowd was divided about him. Some even wanted him arrested, but no one laid a hand on him. When the Temple guards returned without having arrested Jesus, the leading priests and Pharisees demanded, “Why didn’t you bring him in?” “We have never heard anyone speak like this,” the guards responded. (John 7:37-46)

We’ve all been thirsty before. Our bodies, according to some estimates, are 80% fluid. That means a man my size lugs around about 160 pounds of water. Apart from brains, bones, muscles and some organs, we're walking water balloons. And that’s okay; we need to be. If you don’t believe me, just stop drinking water and see what happens. Coherent thoughts vanish, skin grows clammy, and vital organs start to wrinkle. The fact of the matter is that your eyes need fluid to cry; your mouth needs moisture to swallow; your glands need sweat to keep your body cool; your cells need blood to carry them; and your joints need fluid to lubricate them. In short, your body needs water the same way a tire needs air. In fact, your Maker wired you with something called thirst – it’s a "low-fluid indicator," of sorts. Let your fluid level grow low enough, and watch the signals begin to flare. Dry mouth. Thick tongue. Achy head. Weak knees. Deprive your body of necessary fluids, and your body will tell you.

Deprive your soul of spiritual water, and your soul will tell you that, too. Parched hearts send desperate messages. Snarling tempers. Waves of worry. Crashing waves of guilt and fear. Do you think God wants you to live with symptoms like hopelessness, sleeplessness, loneliness, resentment, irritability and insecurity? These are warning signs. Symptoms of a dryness deep down inside. Perhaps you've never thought of them that way. You've thought stuff like irritability and sleeplessness were like speed bumps – a necessary part of the journey. Anxiety, you assume, runs in your genes like eye color. Some people have bad ankles; others, high cholesterol or receding hairlines. And you? You fret. And moodiness? Everyone has gloomy days. These emotions are inevitable. But are they unquenchable? No.

View the pains of your heart, not so much as struggles to endure, but as an inner thirst to quench – proof that something within you is starting to shrivel. So, treat your soul as you’d treat your thirst – take a gulp; imbibe moisture; flood your heart with a good swallow of water. And where do you find water for the soul? Jesus gave the answer to that question one October day in Jerusalem.

People had packed the streets for the annual reenactment of the rock-giving-water miracle of Moses in the Sinai desert. In honor of their nomadic ancestors, they slept in tents. In tribute to the desert stream, they poured out water. So each morning a priest would fill a golden pitcher with water from the Gihon spring and carry it down a people-lined street to the temple. Announced by trumpets, the priest circled the altar with a libation of liquid. He did this every day, once a day, for seven days. Then on the last day, the great day, the priest gave the altar a Jericho loop – seven circles – dousing it with seven containers of water. So, it may have been at this very moment that the rustic rabbi from Galilee commanded the people's attention: “On the last day, the climax of the festival, Jesus stood and shouted to the crowds, ‘Anyone who is thirsty may come to me! Anyone who believes in me may come and drink! For the Scriptures declare, “Rivers of living water will flow from his heart.”’” (John 7:37-38)

Finely frocked priests likely turned in shock. The crowd probably looked on in surprise. Wide-eyed children possibly paused. Because they knew this man. Some had heard him preach in the Hebrew hills; others, in the city streets. Two and a half years had passed since he'd emerged from the Jordan waters. The crowd had seen this carpenter before. But they’d never seen him this intense. He "stood and shouted." Now, the traditional rabbinic teaching posture was sitting and speaking. But Jesus stood up and shouted like the blind man who shouted, appealing for sight (Mark 10:46-47); or the sinking Peter who shouted, begging for help (Matt. 14:29-30); or the demon-possessed man who’d shouted, pleading for mercy. (Mark 5:2-7) John uses the same Greek verb to portray the volume of Jesus's voice.

So forget about Jesus just clearing his throat … ahem. God was pounding his gavel on heaven's bench. Christ demanded attention. He shouted because his time was short. The sand in the neck of his hourglass was down to a few grains. In six months he'd be dragging a cross through these streets. And the people? The people thirsted. They needed water – not for their throats, but for their hearts. So Jesus invited, “Are your insides starting to shrivel? Drink from me.” What water can do for your body, Jesus can do for your heart. Lubricate it. Aquify it. Soften what’s crusty, and flush what’s rusty. But how?

Well, like water, Jesus goes where we can't. Throw a sack of potatoes against a wall, and it thuds and crashes to the floor. Splash water against a wall, and the liquid conforms and spreads. Its molecular makeup gives water great flexibility: one moment separating and seeping into a crack, another collecting and thundering over Niagara Falls. Water goes where we can’t. So does Jesus. He is a spirit, and although he forever has a body, he is not bound by a body. In fact, John parenthetically explains, (When he said “living water,” he was speaking of the Spirit, who would be given to everyone believing in him. But the Spirit had not yet been given, because Jesus had not yet entered into his glory.) (John 7:39)

The Spirit of Jesus threads down the throat of your soul, flushing fears and dislodging regrets. He does for your soul what water does for your body. And, thankfully, we don't have to give him directions. We don’t give directions to water, do we? Before swallowing, do you look at a glass of water and say, "Fifty drops of you go to my spleen, and the rest of you head north to my scalp – it’s really itchy today." Water somehow knows where to go. Jesus does too. Your direction is not needed, but your permission is. Like water, Jesus won't come in unless swallowed. That is, we must willingly surrender to his lordship. You can stand waist deep in the Colorado River and still die of thirst. Until you scoop and swallow, the water does your system no good. And until you gulp Christ, the same is true.

Don't you need a drink? Don't you long to flush out the fear, the anxiety, the guilt? You can. Note the audience that was present at Jesus’ invitation. "If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink." (v. 37 – emphasis mine) Are you anyone? If so, then step up to the well. You qualify for his water. All ages are welcome. Both genders are invited. No race is excluded. Scoundrels, rascals and rubes. All are welcome. You don't have to be rich to drink, religious to drink, or successful to drink; you simply need to follow the instructions on what – or better, who – to drink. Him.

In order for Jesus to do what water does, you’ve got to let him penetrate your heart. Deep, deep inside. Internalize him. Ingest him. Welcome him into the inner workings of your life. Let Christ be the water of your soul. But how’s that done? Well, it starts by heeding your thirst. Don't dismiss your loneliness. Don't deny your anger. Your restless spirit, churning stomach, and the sense of dread that turns your armpits into swamplands – these are signal flares exploding in the sky. “We could use a little moisture down here!” Don't let your heart shrink into a raisin. For the sake of those who need your love, hydrate your soul. Heed your thirst. And drink good water.

You don't gulp dirt or swallow rocks, do you? Or, do you drink plastic or paper or pepper? No. When it comes to our body’s thirst, we've learned how to reach for the right stuff. So, do the same for your heart. Not everything you put to your lips will help your thirst. For instance, eighty-hour workweeks may grant a sense of fulfillment, but they will never remove the thirst. And pay special attention to that bottle labeled, "religion." Jesus did. Note once again the setting in which he was speaking. He isn't talking to prostitutes or troublemakers, penitentiary inmates or reform-school dropouts, is he? No, he’s addressing churchgoers at a religious convention.

This day is an ecclesiastical highlight; like the Vatican on Easter Sunday. You half expect the pope to appear in the next verse. And the religious symbols are all laid out like a yard sale: the temple, the altar, the trumpets, the robes. He could have pointed to any one of those items as a source of drink and spiritual hydration. But Jesus didn’t. These were mere symbols. Jesus points to himself, the one to whom those very symbols were pointing and in whom they were fulfilled. Religion pacifies, but it never satisfies. Church activities might hide a thirst, but only Christ can quench it. Drink him. And drink often.

Finally, Jesus employs a verb that suggests repeated swallows. Literally, "Anyone who believes in me may come and drink, and keep drinking." That’s because one bottle won't satisfy your thirst. Regular sips satisfy thirsty throats. There’s an old saying that goes, “Drink before you’re thirsty.” It may not be as scientific as it once sounded, but it does promote awareness. Ceaseless communion satisfies thirsty souls. Don't you need regular sips from God's reservoir? We all do. You don't have to live with a parched heart. Drink deeply and often. And out of you will flow rivers of living water.

Grace,

Randy