ATHIRST

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.”

That’s how our story begins, in the book of Genesis. Notice how water is there at the very beginning of creation. Because, (whatever you may think of the science) in our story water is created before light, before even there was any space separating the earth from the sky. Clearly, life was inconceivable without water.

Now, if we turn to the other end of our bibles, leaving aside the warnings John includes against changing the words of his prophecy, we find that water rounds off our story too. The whole of the last chapter of Revelation centres on the ‘River of Life’, and the last verse of all reads, “The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come!’ And let him who hears say, ‘Come!’ Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life.”

Now, it’s certainly fun to discover that water both begins and ends our story, but perhaps it’s not so very surprising when you consider the location where these ideas were conceived and written. The Middle East is an area where the difference between the arid desert areas and the fertile watered areas is only too obvious. The whole early history of Israel as a nation is dominated by the promise of prosperity in the fertile land of Canaan. Abraham moved there as an alien; by a complicated story his descendants became slaves in Egypt (another region where the significance of water is immediately visible). They then endured many harsh years of wandering in the desert, to the land flowing not just with water, but with the rich produce that water makes possible: milk and honey. That is what kept them going: this was what they could hold on to, of the promise that God had made to them: that they were to have the water of life.

So water and the desire for it were deeply rooted in the Israeli consciousness. For us, in 21st Century Somerset, it’s all too easy to take water for granted. After all, we sometimes seem to have too much of it! We have seemingly endless safe water on tap, millions of plastic bottles of water in our supermarkets, flowing rivers, and mud and rain to spare. Nevertheless, we too are aware of the significance of water, whether it’s through the advice we receive to drink more, or to waste less, or to help those in developing countries who lack a reliable supply.

So, because we are able to think about the desirability of water in this way, it’s not hard for us to feel the force of the argument when writers use the idea of water metaphorically. This happens throughout the bible, of course: water, the need for it and the desire for it, are used to represent truths about our spiritual life. One of the most striking and memorable times was when Jesus met a woman by Jacob’s Well in Samaria and asked her for a drink. You may remember how the conversation went: Jesus deliberately teases her by keeping it ambiguous as to whether he’s talking about physical water, because he’s tired and thirsty, or what he calls the living water which would stop her ever being thirsty again. From her response we can tell just how attractive is the fantasy of never having to come and draw from the well and carry pots of water ever again. But equally clearly, she also has within her a spiritual longing. She says, ‘I know that Messiah, called Christ, is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.’ We get the impression of someone who thinks about life, and finds it a puzzle. She seeks another ‘well’ to satisfy her soul.

As ever, we can turn to the beautiful book of Psalms, and find the same desire there, beautifully expressed. Perhaps nowhere better than in Psalm 42, where we read, “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. And in Psalm 143 we find, ‘My soul thirsts for you like a parched land. Answer me quickly, O Lord; my spirit fails.’

It is exactly this sense that Isaiah appeals to in the passage we have listened to today. “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters.” To start with, there is no suggestion that he is doing anything other than offering a physical drink to the physically thirsty. But our minds have already run on, and it is no surprise when the next verse hits us with an impossibility: “All you who have no money, come, buy and eat!.” We know we are in the realms of metaphor. How can you buy anything if you haven’t got any money? It leaves us wondering just where he is heading, though. “Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labour on what does not satisfy?” And then we get the answer: “Listen!” That’s what we have to do. We have to be willing to come, pay, if you like, our time and our attention. We have to have a desire like a thirst, to hear what will truly refresh and nourish us, and which will satisfy. We have to listen. “Listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear, and come to me; hear me that your soul may live.”

Isaiah tells us that those whose awareness of their spiritual need is like a thirst will be satisfied by God’s word. And he is so confident that God’s word is powerful and effective, that he develops the water metaphor to illustrate it: “As the rain and snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth, and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: it will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”

So far, so good. The bits of the jig-saw puzzle seem to be coming together quite nicely. We have Isaiah saying, “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters … without cost,” and we have discovered how this fits exactly with those final words of the revelation of St. John: “Come! Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life.” We also now understand that what is symbolised by the water, the river of life that flows from the throne of God, is the word of God; that it is listening to the word of God that will satisfy us. This fits exactly with two other pieces: Jesus’s statement to the Samaritan woman that the water he gives will become a spring of water welling up to eternal life, and the description of Jesus as the very Word of God. “In the beginning was the Word … The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”

All we need to do now is to come to an understanding of what it means to be spiritually thirsty, and in what way God’s word can satisfy that thirst. Let’s follow the good example we find in the bible, and start by considering what it means to be literally thirsty. I would say that, for most of the time, we have a drink not so much because we are thirsty, but because we accept that if we don’t, we will get thirsty, so we take precautions. So, perhaps, we don’t often experience real thirst. But I don’t know if you, like me, are obliged to mow the grass once in a while, usually on a stifling hot Saturday afternoon, in the knowledge that if you don’t get on and get it finished before it starts raining again, you’ll have missed your chance and it’ll get out of hand – again. So you labour on. But it doesn’t have to wait till you finish the job before you begin to realise how very desirable a drink would be. And that keeps you going until the last blade is cut, and you even get the mower put away. There’s perseverance! When finally you have your glass in your hand and you take your first quaff – whether it-s beer, lemon barley, or whatever – and it’s sooo good, that’s when you really understand what thirst is for. What is it about us that makes getting ourselves into a needy state and satisfying that need, so much more satisfying than constantly taking precautions so that we never get into a needy state in the first place?

Let’s now try and take some of these thoughts over to the idea of spiritual thirst, and see how we get on! I don’t think it’s my place to come up with definite answers, but there seem to be certain possibilities that it may be worth reflecting on. Let’s say that a spiritual thirst is a needy state, that if we are spiritually thirsty, we are in a needy state, and we know it. And if we found a way to satisfy that need, it too would be sooo good! If we want to experience that deep satisfaction, do we want to engage in some activity, like mowing the grass, that raises our level of spiritual neediness? What kind of activity would that be? Well, when we’re mowing the grass, what are we doing? We’re doing something that we know needs doing; something that we’re in a position to do, and that we can do; something that had better be done now than left for later. It means engaging with the untidy outgrowth of natural forces; it’s something that when it’s done, can be enjoyed both by us and by others. And it’s something that tires us out and leaves us in need of restoration.

Might it then be true to say that in God’s garden – ie the spiritual realm – we ought similarly to be doing something that we know needs doing; something that we are in a position to do, and that is within our capabilities; something that had better be done now rather than be left for later? There are undoubtedly areas in God’s garden that are overrun by what you might very well call ‘the untidy outgrowth of natural forces’; perhaps it is our task to engage with those in such a way that the result can be enjoyed both by ourselves and others. But isn’t it true that the more we venture out into areas of spiritual darkness – those places in the world and within ourselves where to our way of looking God seems to have no influence – the more we become aware of our deep spiritual need; the more, in fact, that God’s word can reassure. comfort and restore? Is it only then that will we really have the experience of having our need satisfied?

And what of the alternative: that of ensuring that we never get into a needy state in the first place? Do we take our spiritual refreshment regularly, as a precaution? Do we take all this so much for granted that we never really value it, never really being thirsty, and so never truly experiencing the power and effectiveness of God’s word?

Because, that is what we are invited to enjoy: our thirst satisfied. Now when I refer to God’s word, I do not mean just the Bible. That is of course part of God’s word. But Jesus is God’s Word, is he not? – God’s perfect utterance – and as John explains, “He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made.” It means we can hear – and see – God’s word widely, throughout the whole of creation, wherever Jesus is with us. To ask what is the power and effectiveness of God’s word, is therefore the same as asking, ‘What is the power and effectiveness of Jesus?’ What is the nature of this spiritual thirst that Jesus can so effectively satisfy?

Let’s relate this to one of the prayers within the Lord’s prayer. I mean the words “Thy kingdom come.” Don’t you share the heartfelt longing in these words: for the whole world to be as God wants it to be, and not the mess we seem to be so good at making? When we engage with some of the difficult areas of mess in this world, we may well lose heart. These places can seem impenetrable to God’s kingdom. Were it not for the promise of God’s word to refresh and revive us, we might well lose heart and perseverance. We might well conclude, ‘The world is an evil place beyond the reach of any good that I or anyone else can offer.’ But God’s Word tells us that whatever we do for the least we do for him. Jesus showed us, as well as told us, how to do things that will help achieve what we so much desire, namely the building up of God’s kingdom. If that works, then, even if we do find the world puzzling, we can be sustained by the thought, as if it were a spring constantly welling up in us.

But can it work? Isaiah says, “My word will not return to me empty. It will achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” Do you think Jesus returned to his Father empty, without having achieved his purpose? He certainly ventured out into areas of spiritual darkness, did he not? As for us, whatever we feel called to do, if we want to know what we must do to do the works God requires, we have God’s word again: ‘The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent.’ With that faith, whatever the job is, we can finish it – and get the mower put away!