Living Water
It’s harvest season. A time when we as a church… generosity...
I don’t know about you, but I am sometimes feeling a little out of juice these days. I am sometimes feeling parched, thirsting for water like Jesus on a long walk through dry terrain. And, I consider myself one of the lucky ones, who has a roof over my head, healthy family members, and good food to eat. Still, there are waves of dryness to this pandemic to which I am not immune. And I know I am not alone in feeling that we stand collectively in a valley of dry, dry bones not unlike Ezekiel did in his vision. Not unlike the people of ancient Israel, we are not entirely sure of how God is going to put the flesh of our communities back together on these dry, dry bones.
I know I am not alone in this because I know that when I visit with you all, there are many of you who share that you feel it too. Whether we are in a caregiving situation, a tough financial situation, a difficult leadership role, a life change we don’t want or didn’t expect, or wherever our dry, desert places may be, we have our own reasons for feeling low, lost, and sad before we layer on the collective grief of a pandemic.
Jesus isn’t necessarily feeling full of juice either when he comes upon the Samaritan woman at the well. The Pharisees have just pulled a neat trick. In tallying up who’s winning between Jesus and John, they’ve pulled a move folks still use to great advantage today: trying to pit folks against each other who are actually on the same side. Between that and the long walk, Jesus is ready for a cup of cold water.
But the woman is taken aback when Jesus addresses her. He’s flaunting social norms, and she’s not so sure she can trust him. They banter back and forth awhile--she is employing her hard-won wisdom of life and he is showing himself to be the insightful, compassionate, yet demanding Messiah that he is. He sees her and her story in a way that catches her attention. Then he tells her that the truth is Samaritans and Jews are on the same side. They’re all just looking for a cup of that eternal living water, and they all know that God’s got the well that never runs dry.
Jesus tells her not that she’s got to be perfect or fit the expectations of somebody who’s powerful to get a cup of that water. No, he tells her, God’s seeking out folks to bring their whole selves to worship. That’s the way to fill your cup. Dare to be honest with the Holy Source of all water and that jug of yours will be filled up every time it runs dry.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen some dry cups in the wells I’ve been stopping by. I’ve seen people snapping at each other everywhere there are people. Cashiers, waitstaff, and nurses are taking the brunt of folks’ crabbiness and anxiety. But all of us who deal with people in one way or another are running into it. Maybe, it wouldn’t even be too much to say that all of us who talk to other people are at one time or another perpetrating it, too. Because I know there are times, I’ve wagged my head at crabby folks in traffic or at the grocery store. And I’ll tell you there are also times I have found myself to be the crabby one lately, too. My husband and children can attest to it but it’s other places, too.
Just this week, I was lost, trying to find my way to a new care facility I’ve never visited before. I found a nurse outside and asked curtly for directions then scoffed in frustration when she told me I’d have to move my car. I got about five steps away and realized I was doing it. I was making my crabbiness this other person’s problem when all either of us wanted was to help people and to get home safe. I stopped. I said sorry. Thank you. I said, this looks like a really nice place. I’ve just never been here before. And, I wished her a good day. I wish I would always be able to do that. Because the truth is so many of us are sad, hurting, frustrated, and crabby as all get out. Whether consciously or unconsciously, it's mighty tempting to find someone to take it all out on. But even crabs who live in the dry, dry sand depend on the water for life. And if I have any choice about it, I’d much rather sip from that oasis well of living water that Jesus offers, than let myself die from thirst in the dry desert of my own grumpiness and despair.
The scripture tells us Jesus has walked through those dry desert valleys. He’s walked through actual geographical deserts, and he’s walked through the deserts of despair, self-doubt, violent opposition, and of belonging to a people from whom the ruling empire has stolen all freedom, wealth, and autonomy. Jesus knows what it’s like to walk through those dry desert valleys. Jesus also knows where the well is that never runs dry.
That living water he’s talking about with the woman at the well is the water of eternal life that flows from God, the Holy Source. God is the one who has been, who is, and who will be. God is the one in whom we can find all our souls need to make this life worth living. God is the one from whose river of life our souls are born, and God is the one to whose eternal river we will return. God walks with us through the desert valleys we face, and God brings the healing waters down to replenish the barren land. God is the one who shows us and shows up in the beauty of life that persists even in the desert.
This year we are having a wet fall after a dry spring. I am reminded of God’s resurrection promise in the water that has come, if later than we would like. And I am always reminded this time of year, as I look out over the rainbows of brown prairie grass, of the beauty that persists even amidst struggle.
Some days it’s hard to remember that beauty. On those days I rely on the help of my circle of support which includes my family, my therapist, my acupuncturist, my mentor, my bicycle, my prayer life, my penchant for birding, and my friends. Some of those friends have been passing around an article this week that unleashed not only healing tears but insight and possibilities for me. It was written by Susan Beaumont and is titled “Overwhelm is not a problem to be solved.”1
(1 Susan Beaumont. “Overwhelm: Not a Problem to be Solved.” https://susanbeaumont.com/2021/10/12/overwhelm-not-aproblem-to-be-solved/accessed October 15, 2021.)
Susan writes that our conventional understanding of leadership is someone who sees a problem and sets out to find a solution. That’s a very satisfying mode of being a leader and of being led. It’s nice to be someone who gets things done. It’s nice to have someone who will help you or your organization fix things. It’s nice to meet those conventional expectations and to have them met.
Susan Beaumont doesn’t believe that’s the leadership this moment calls for though. Beaumont thinks right now it’s not only ineffective and exhausting, it's actually counterproductive to try to solve all the big problems and fix all the things right now. Rather, she insists now is the time to let some things fall apart. “Much of our overwhelm,” writes Beaumont, “comes from trying to preserve or adapt things that are meant to fail.” There are always shifts we can make. There are always people we can help. Right now, though, Beaumont suggests the best shift we can make is a shift in our perspective. The best help we can give is to let things fall apart. Because what’s happening right now is a great undoing. It’s time for our old water vessels to crack and break open.
I know I’d like more than anything to run out and buy the latest vessels for holding the water that’s coming as part of the new normal of our changing lives. But the thing is we don’t even know what those are yet. Beaumont says, if you’re feeling overwhelmed, feel it. Don’t hide. Don’t fix. Just be. Just pay attention. Because it could be you’re tuned in to what it is that needs to break. And instead of your rushing to fix, your paying attention and inviting others to pay attention might be just the leadership your family, your church, your workplace, and your community so dearly needs.
The woman at the well knows something isn’t working. She knows too that these old ways we have for carrying water are about to break in the presence of the Messiah who has unleashed the flood gates of that holy living water. She doesn’t rush to fix anything though. What she does is leave her old water jug behind. What she does is go to get the rest of her people to let them know something new is on the way. What she does is start to trust that God is the Source of Living Water, and sometimes all we need to do is get out of the way.
The book of Revelation chapter 21 promises a time when God will wipe away every tear from every eye and all things will be made new. I believe we can be part of the healing work God is doing. But I do not believe the cataclysmic work of resurrection depends on us alone. No, it is a power far greater than our human actions can bring. Sometimes the best we can do is not to work against that power. Sometimes the best we can do to be faithful stewards is to open our hands, our hearts, and our hope to let flow the new life God is bringing, even if we do not yet know what will emerge when the flood waters recede. Sometimes the best we can do with the life, energy, and gifts we have been given is to set down our old water jars, share what kindness, cups of cold water, and fresh apple dumplings we have to share, and pause to notice all the ways God is making all things new.
May it be so in your life, in my life, and in our world. Amen.
