Holy Water!
John 4:4-15 August 21, 2011
Intro:
Do you remember these (show picture of school water fountain)? Back in the day before bottled water, pop machines in every nook and cranny, water coolers with disposable triangular paper cups, or personal water bottles clipped to backpacks and carried around with us everywhere, we just had these. I remember junior high, phys-ed class. Now, I was one of those kids who always played hard. And I sweated a lot. And I remember when the teacher called a break, or the class was over, and we ran to the old rusty fountain for a drink. I remember standing in line, waiting, tapping my foot, wondering when the kids in front of me would finally stop drinking so my turn would come. I remember us saying all sorts of dumb things: leave some for the fishes!, don’t drink Canada Dry!, even hey – get your mouth off the tap. Really, what we were saying was hurry up and finish so I can have my turn – I’m thirsty!
Then, when I finally got to the fountain, and turned the knob, there was always this moment of anticipation – hoping the water would actually flow up and not just sort-of gurgle out around the spout, hoping it would be cold. I remember the few times the water was actually really cold and the flow strong, and being able to drink deeply, gulping down the fresh water for as long as I wanted, until I could lift my head, wipe the drips from my chin, and step away satisfied. Those were good moments… and they were few. Most of the time, it was a lukewarm trickle with six or seven other kids behind me yelling leave some for the fishes!
I’ve never, though, known what it really means to thirst. I mean, to be desperate for water. Most of us are rarely more than a few steps away from a drink, and we usually have a dizzying array of tasty alternatives with which to satisfy our need for liquid – I have an old fridge in my basement, four steps from my computer where I’m sitting to write this sermon, and in it right now are 38 different cold beverage options should I suddenly feel a desire for a drink. And that’s on top of the cup of coffee sitting right in front of me.
John 4:
So it is tough for me to relate to Jesus in John 4. He’s been walking all morning, through a desert, and He is tired and thirsty when He sits down to rest at Jacob’s well in Samaria. I imagine He had carried some water in an animal skin, but probably just enough to get Him to this resting place. John 4:6-7 tells us, Jesus, tired from the long walk, sat wearily beside the well about noontime. 7 Soon a Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, Please give me a drink.
He needed water – the physical body was tired and thirsty, water was the obvious remedy.
But of course, and as we saw last week, Jesus was ever mindful of not only the physical need but also of the spiritual need, and that is where the conversation heads:
9 The woman was surprised, for Jews refuse to have anything to do with Samaritans. She said to Jesus, You are a Jew, and I am a Samaritan woman. Why are you asking me for a drink?
10 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.
11 But sir, you don’t have a rope or a bucket, she said, and this well is very deep. Where would you get this living water? 12 And besides, do you think you’re greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us this well? How can you offer better water than he and his sons and his animals enjoyed?
13 Jesus replied, Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again. 14 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.
15 Please, sir, the woman said, give me this water! Then I’ll never be thirsty again, and I won’t have to come here to get water.
Living Water:
Jesus entices her into a deeper conversation with the offer of living water, which she would have heard and understood as physical water that was flowing, like a stream or a spring or a river – not water that was standing like in a well or carried in an animal skin all morning long and now warm and stale. He is a stranger, she lives here and knows there are no springs or streams or rivers. What is He talking about? What is this living water? Jesus doesn’t concretely answer that question, but He does describe it: those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.
So, what is Jesus talking about – and more importantly, have you experienced it? Water is a major theme in the Gospel of John, it figures prominently in each of the first 7 chapters:
- chapter 1, John baptizes with water
- chapter 2, Jesus turns water into wine
- chapter 3, Jesus tells Nicodemus no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit
- chapter 4, the woman at the well
- chapter 5, Jesus heals a lame man at the pool of Bethesda (where the water would occasionally bubble up and people believed they would be healed if they got into the pool when that happened)
- chapter 6, Jesus walks on water into the middle of a storm on the lake
- chapter 7, Jesus offers living water.
So what does John intend by writing so much about water? What do all these stories and mentions have in common? And what do we learn that helps us understand Jesus’ conversation with the woman at the well? The answer is in chapter 7:37-39, where John now makes it clear: “37 On the last day, the climax of the festival, Jesus stood and shouted to the crowds, Anyone who is thirsty may come to me! 38 Anyone who believes in me may come and drink! For the Scriptures declare, Rivers of living water will flow from his heart. 39 (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.)
The Holy Spirit:
Aha, there it is. He was speaking of the Spirit, who would be given to everyone believing in him. That is what He was offering the woman of Samaria, the opportunity to come to believe in Jesus and then be filled with the Holy Spirit after the resurrection. See how Jesus describes the Holy Spirit to her: It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.
A fresh, bubbling spring
Jesus’ description is a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life. Now, I don’t know what images come to your mind when we speak of the Holy Spirit, and I’m not certain of your theological position on whether we are filled with the Spirit once for all time at the moment of our faith in Jesus, whether we need some second blessing after conversion where we are baptized with the Holy Spirit, or whether you believe we need a constant filling of the Holy Spirit as we live day by day. I’m pretty convinced it is the 3rd, especially if we take Jesus’ water analogy seriously. You can’t have a big drink once at conversion and never need another drink. You can’t have a big drink at some second blessing time and never need another drink. And even in John 4, when Jesus says those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again, He certainly doesn’t mean they will never need another drink, but clearly they will never be thirsty again (because they will have) a fresh, bubbling spring within them from which they may always drink.
So, here’s my question: how is your spiritual spring? Are you drinking deeply of that fresh, bubbling water which is the Holy Spirit? Are you paying attention to that spiritual longing and need we have for the refreshing, sustaining, life-giving presence of God within us?
Unlike our physical need for water, it is possible for us to ignore/suppress our spiritual needs, at least for a while. Many people, Christians included, perhaps some of us here today included, find other ways to try to meet our spiritual need. We seek it through work, or through human relationships, or through entertainment. Worse, we distract ourselves with things that fill our time but not our spiritual need. It is sort of like drinking nothing but highly caffeinated or highly alcoholic or highly salted beverages – while they may temporarily satisfy and be enjoyable, they leave us more thirsty than before. Sometimes, especially when we speak of the Holy Spirit, we retreat to previous experiences and live in the past, rather than drinking from the fresh, bubbling spring within us.
So, I ask again, how is your spiritual spring? Are you drinking deeply of that fresh, bubbling water which is the Holy Spirit empowering you for life as a child of God rather than a citizen of this world?
Two Stories:
I am going to close with two stories, both may be familiar to you. The first is a rather famous story by a preacher named Peter Marshall, written in 1942. The story is called The Keeper of the Spring, and the point I want you to take out of it is this: we must tend, we must nurture, we must care for the conditions in our lives into which the fresh, bubbling spring of the Holy Spirit flows. We aren’t the source, we can’t make the water flow, but I believe we don’t have to – that isn’t our job. Our job is to tend, nurture, care for the conditions in our lives so that the Holy Spirit may flow freely and cleanly. This isn’t rocket science: it is about attentiveness of mind and spirit at worship, it is about reading our Bibles and praying, it is about serving and giving, it is about living with integrity day in and day out. I’ll end that first story with the simple question: have you been neglecting your spiritual spring?
The second story is out of the Narnia chronicles, book 6, The Silver Chair. You’ll meet Jill, a young girl who has just finished crying her eyes out for a long time and is now very thirsty, and Aslan, the lion who represents Jesus. This story I’ll conclude with the simple repetition of Aslan’s invitation.
The Keeper of the Spring, by Peter Marshall
Once upon a time, a certain town grew up at the foot of a mountain range. It was sheltered in the lee of the protecting heights, so that the wind that shuddered at the doors and flung handfuls of sleet against the window panes was a wind whose fury was spent.
High up in the hills, a strange and quiet forest dweller took it upon himself to be the Keeper of the Springs. He patrolled the hills and wherever he found a spring, he cleaned its brown pool of silt and fallen leaves, of mud and mold and took away from the spring all foreign matter, so that the water which bubbled up through the sand ran down clean and cold and pure. It leaped sparkling over rocks and dropped joyously in crystal cascades until, swollen by other streams, it became a river of life to the busy town.
Millwheels were whirled by its rush. Gardens were refreshed by its waters. Fountains threw it like diamonds into the air. Swans sailed on its limpid surface, and children laughed as they played on its banks in the sunshine.
But the City Council was a group of hard-headed, hard-boiled businessmen.
They scanned the civic budget and found in it the salary of a Keeper of the Springs. Said the Keeper of the Purse: Why should we pay this romance ranger? We never see him; he is not necessary to our town's work life. If we build a reservoir just above the town, we can dispense with his services and save his salary. Therefore, the City Council voted to dispense with the unnecessary cost of a Keeper of the Springs, and to build a cement reservoir.
So the Keeper of the Springs no longer visited the brown pools but watched from the heights while they built the reservoir. When it was finished, it soon filled up with water, to be sure, but the water did not seem to be the same. It did not seem to be as clean, and a green scum soon befouled its stagnant surface.
There were constant troubles with the delicate machinery of the mills, for it was often clogged with slime, and the swans found another home above the town. At last, an epidemic raged, and the clammy, yellow fingers of sickness reached into every home in every street and lane.
The City Council met again. Sorrowfully, it faced the city's plight, and frankly it acknowledged the mistake of the dismissal of the Keeper of the Springs. They sought him out of his hermit hut high in the hills, and begged him to return to his former joyous labor. Gladly he agreed, and began once more to make his rounds.
It was not long until pure water came lilting down under tunnels of ferns and mosses and to sparkle in the cleansed reservoir. Millwheels turned again as of old. Stenches disappeared. Sickness waned and convalescent children playing in the sun laughed again because the swans had come back.
So… have you been neglecting your spiritual spring?
Jill’s Thirst: by C.S. Lewis (from The Silver Chair, chapter 2)
Crying is all right in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do. When Jill stopped, she found she was dreadfully thirsty. She had been lying face downward, and now she sat up. The birds had ceased singing and there was perfect silence except for one small, persistent sound, which seemed to come from a good distance away. She listened carefully, and felt almost sure it was the sound of running water.
Jill got up and looked round her very carefully. There was no sign of the lion; but there were so many trees about that it might easily be quite close without her seeing it. For all she knew, there might be several lions. But her thirst was very bad now, and she plucked up her courage to go and look for that running water. She went on tiptoes, stealing cautiously from tree to tree, and stopping to peer round her at every step.
The wood was so still that it was not difficult to decide where the sound was coming from. It grew clearer every moment and, sooner than she expected, she came to an open glade and saw the stream, bright as glass, running across the turf a stone's throw away from her. But although the sight of the water made her feel ten times thirstier than before, she didn't rush forward and drink. She stood as still as if she had been turned into stone, with her mouth wide open. And she had a very good reason; just on this side of the stream lay the lion.
It lay with its head raised and its two fore-paws out in front of it, like the lions in Trafalgar Square. She knew at once that it had seen her, for its eyes looked straight into hers for a moment and then turned away - as if it knew her quite well and didn't think much of her.
If I run away, it'll be after me in a moment, thought Jill. And if I go on, I shall run straight into its mouth. Anyway, she couldn't have moved if she had tried, and she couldn't take her eyes off it. How long this lasted, she could not be sure; it seemed like hours. And the thirst became so bad that she almost felt she would not mind being eaten by the lion if only she could be sure of getting a mouthful of water first.
If you're thirsty, you may drink.
They were the first words she had heard since Scrubb had spoken to her on the edge of the cliff. For a second she stared here and there, wondering who had spoken. Then the voice said again, If you are thirsty, come and drink, and of course she remembered what Scrubb had said about animals talking in that other world, and realized that it was the lion speaking. Anyway, she had seen its lips move this time, and the voice was not like a man's. It was deeper, wilder, and stronger; a sort of heavy, golden voice. It did not make her any less frightened than she had been before, but it made her frightened in rather a different way.
Are you not thirsty? said the Lion.
I'm dying of thirst, said Jill.
Then drink, said the Lion.
May I - could I - would you mind going away while I do? said Jill.
The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.
The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
Will you promise not to - do anything to me, if I do come? said Jill.
I make no promise, said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
Do you eat girls? she said.
I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms, said the Lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
I daren't come and drink, said Jill.
Then you will die of thirst, said the Lion.
Oh dear! said Jill, coming another step nearer. I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.
There is no other stream, said the Lion.
It never occurred to Jill to disbelieve the Lion - no one who had seen his stern face could do that - and her mind suddenly made itself up. It was the worst thing she had ever had to do, but she went forward to the stream, knelt down, and began scooping up water in her hand. It was the coldest, most refreshing water she had ever tasted. You didn't need to drink much of it, for it quenched your thirst at once. Before she tasted it she had been intending to make a dash away from the Lion the moment she had finished. Now, she realized that this would be on the whole the most dangerous thing of all. She got up and stood there with her lips still wet from drinking.
Come here, said the Lion.
So… in the words of Alsan, If you are thirsty, come and drink.
In the words of Jesus, those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.
If you are thirsty, come and drink.
