At last the Lord has made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land. (Genesis 26:22)
This statement was made by Isaac, a man who had become rich yet who eventually became wealthy. There is a difference. While Isaac was materially secure, his “at last” indicated he was not yet complete.
His relief came when he found an uncontested well. It didn’t matter how wealthy Isaac was, without water he would die. Through deep subterranean channels that water had been flowing all along, but the Philistines had filled the wells up with earth. All Isaac had to do was invest his own energies in reestablishing the access point to this water. He had all the motivation necessary—his life depended on it… Mine did too.
I was aware, at least theoretically, there was a well of living water in me. It was supposed be bubbling up from within. The Bible, and an irritating song, told me so. The song went “I have joy, joy, joy down in my heart, down in my heart, forever and ever and seemingly forever more, Amen.” However, I could only mouth the words. Down in my heart, it was really more like, “I wish I had” joy, joy, joy…” My well had been filled with dirt.
Mouthing words of jubilation which come from someone else’s well creates a crisis of the spirit. Many cope by turning the page and mouthing the words to the next song. After the last amen they depart and do the same thing, with their lives—they just go through the motions.
My “at last” moment began shortly after I finally acknowledged I was dying of thirst. From within my depths, I heard a cry: “I cannot just go through the motions of Christianity! I know this is not the life Jesus died to give me!”
I knew there was living water down there. I had tasted it before but I had no clue who filled up the well or what it had been filled with. Well… that’s only partially true. I thought I knew who the Philistines responsible for my misery were, but the Lord was not at all pleased with my finger pointing. It became clear he was asking me to choose life and that meant I must spend the necessary time and energy to reestablish access.
This was by no means a solo project. God provided some people who were experienced in well restoration. They were not pastors (in the CEO/preacher sense); however, they were each pastoral in their relationship to me. These co-laborers were prophets, coaches, counselors, friends, and fathers. I was surprised to discover how much of the debris was religious. I was shocked that every self-serving, shame-laden shovel-full was contributed by one particular Philistine—me.
I will never forget. As we were nearing the bottom and I could once again taste this water. How perfectly delicious it was! My thoughts were “Oh Lord, You have been there all along!” This might sound crazy, but it was worth the thirst just to have it quenched. Now, my heart too was saying, “Ah, at last!”
As we are rehydrated with his Spirit, our gifts will emerge. They will make a place for us. Living water is attractive. Thirsty people are drawn to it. There will come a day, if we diligently watch over our springs, that living water will overflow into the lives of others. This, I am convinced, is normal Christianity.
The great danger is that we would learn to think of our going-through-the-motions life as normal. If you are restless, don’t ignore it! Your native thirst may be finding expression. Give voice to it! Take responsibility for your heart. Grab your shovel and start digging. Pray it out. Cry it out. Journal it out. Find help. Don’t point your finger at the perceived Philistines. They are not responsible for your spiritual condition. You are. Living water can make an oasis in the midst of any desert but it is up to us. We must choose life!
Father, awaken that spiritual thirst that says, “No! I will not just go through the motions! Yes, I will choose life!” Help us to see the spacious life you have purchased for us. Help us to say “Yes!” to our thirst and “No!” to our complicit and faint hearts. Help us to uncover and maintain our spring. May we, too, be fruitful in this land. Amen.