Wednesday Word . . . Living Water
Joelene and I spent some time listening to Braiding Sweetgrass, a book by Robin Wall Kimmerer. If you haven't read (or listened to) this book, you probably should. It's not a novel, but a slow moving reflection by the author on creation, ecological consciousness, and a reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world.
One of the problems (for me) of listening to a book is that I can't mark page numbers of things that catch my attention; and, unless I make a note of something right then, it's left to memory. With that in mind, there was a sentence she wrote while talking about water that went something like this: “We are all water, and water flows away from us.”
I got to thinking about that and the implications of that statement.
Living water is water that is moving. It flows from one point to another. It can be the soft gurgle of a slow moving stream or it can be the roar of a thundering waterfall. It can be as small as a local creek or as vast as the ocean current. It is that living water, water that moves away from its source, that touches and nourishes an untold number of lives. Just think about the Mississippi River and how it impacts the lives of plants, animals, and humans, as it flows into the Gulf of Mexico.
At a time when water in our area is in short supply, we are very aware of the need for living water.
On another level, we are also very aware of the world's need for the living water of Christ.
Jesus told the woman at the well, “The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life” (John 4:14b). The living water of Christ is meant to gush up within us. The living water of Christ is meant to flow out and away from us as it nourishes the world.
A funny thing about water – if it doesn't flow away and out, it simply gathers, stagnates, and becomes undrinkable. This is what happens with the Dead Sea, water flows in but not out. We are the same way. If all we do is collect without passing on, without sharing, we will also stagnate and die.
In the poem “Lester” by Shel Silverstein (found in the book, Where the Sidewalk Ends), Lester was granted a wish. With that wish he slyly wished for more wishes until one day, having grown old, he died. “In a world of apples and kisses and shoes, He wasted his wishes on wishing.”
Let us not live like Lester, but let us live with our wishes and the living water of Christ flowing out from us to nourish the world.
Blessings,