Two thirsts… Lent III

Exodus 17:1-7       Psalm 95     Romans 5:1-11     John 4:5-42

As we began Lent there were two gardens, remember?
Then there were two different calls: one for Abram, and one for Nicodemus.

And today there are two thirsty peoples. Two places where the human heart discovers its thirst. One stands in the wilderness, dust in their mouths, uncertain what tomorrow will bring, asking: Is the Lord among us or not?

And one — one of my favourite women in all scripture — stands at a well, carrying a quiet, complicated life. The kind of life that cannot be summed up quickly. The kind we learn to carry without explaining. The kind others only ever see the edges of. A life shaped by choices made and choices taken away. By moments of courage, and moments we would rather forget.

She comes for water. Nothing more. Just water. But perhaps she has come for something else too. Because anyone who has lived through real thirst knows that it changes the way you see everything.

On Wednesday this week a very excited Deb greeted me at my front door, grinning from ear to ear and jiggling from foot to foot (never approach me, lest you end up in a sermon). She said, “Can you believe what has happened?”

And then, completely thrilled, she told me that this week, for the first time in five years, the drought in South Australia has broken.

When a land has waited that long, thirst is no longer abstract. The earth cracks, rivers shrink, wells run dry, even the land itself seems to thirst. And when the rain finally comes, it feels almost like grace. Which makes this story by the well feel very close to home.

In our Old Testament reading we are in the wilderness, where the people thirst.

They quarrel with Moses. They demand answers. Why did you bring us here to die?

And God provides. Water from the rock. Provision for a thirsty people. Jehovah Jireh.

But something different happens at the well. Jesus sits there, tired from the journey, under the hot noon sun. And when the woman arrives, he says something unexpected.

Give me a drink. The story turns. Because suddenly it is not only the woman who is thirsty. God is thirsty too. This is the great surprise of the gospel. In the wilderness, God gives water to thirsty people. But in Christ, God comes near. God sits down beside us in the dust and heat of ordinary life. God becomes vulnerable enough to ask something of us. Give me a drink. And yet, in the same breath, the one who asks for water is also the one who gives it. The thirsty Christ is also the source of living water.

And the woman is confused. “You have no bucket. The well is deep. Where will you get this living water?” She thinks Jesus is talking about water you can draw.

But Jesus is speaking about something deeper.

“Everyone who drinks from this well will thirst again. But the water I give will become a spring within you. A spring of living water.”

Because the thirst of the human heart is rarely just about water. We thirst for peace that holds when life shakes. For forgiveness when the past will not leave us alone. For love that does not disappear when we fail. We thirst for a life that is more than survival.

And Christ says: The water you seek is already closer than you think. Some people say many of us live slightly dehydrated without noticing. The body simply adjusts. And perhaps the soul does the same. We learn to live with a quiet thirst.

So look at the movement of the story.

In the wilderness, God gives water to a thirsty people.

At the well, God sits among us, tired and thirsty, asking for a drink.

And now the movement continues. God places the water in our hands. Because the living water does not stop with us. It becomes a spring, the first rains after a drought. Flowing outward. Toward the thirsty places of the world. Toward the neighbour who needs kindness. Toward the stranger who needs welcome. Toward the friend who needs mercy.

This is not a circle. This is a deepening.

Provision. Presence. Participation.

God gives. God comes near. And then God says to us: Now you know what living water looks like. Now you know how it flows. So now; go and be living water for one another.

The world is thirsty; for mercy; for truth; for hope.

And Christ says to us: Become the spring. Be the rain for a thirsty world.

Amen.