Living Water #
In the fourth chapter of the Gospel according to John, we are given an example of how, from living water—the Holy Ghost, the incorruptible seed—the words of the Lord, a new spiritual man is born.
The Lord converses with the Samaritan woman at the well. “Give Me to drink,” He says to the woman. “How is it that Thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, who am a Samaritan woman? For the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans,” she replies. Jesus answers her: “If thou knewest the gift of God, and Who it is that saith to thee, Give Me to drink, thou wouldest have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water. Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”
At first, the woman does not understand these mysterious words. But at last she perceives that the Stranger speaks of the living water of pure doctrine, of the revelation of God’s truth, of the ways of life. She realizes that before her stands the promised Redeemer, and that His words are a life-giving and healing spring. And once she understands, she listens eagerly, seeking an answer to every perplexity of her soul. More than that—leaving her water jar behind, she runs to the city to tell all: “Come to the living water… Hasten to the Source!”
The soul that had lived in sin (for “thou hast had five husbands; and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband” — John 4:18) at once is straightened, like parched grass revived by rain, and greedily drinks in the living moisture.
And yet always near us is a living well—the holy Gospel. Why do we so often prefer to drink from all manner of wells—some muddy, some poisoned, some clean, but none miraculously healing—and so seldom come to “the fountain of living water”?
In a certain city, long ago when there were yet no books, there stood in the town square a pillar with inscriptions from the Gospel. And around that pillar there was always a crowd, thirsty for the holy word. The townsfolk learned the ways of life there. It was held as a duty that every child, having just learned to read letters, must read and memorize every inscription on the pillar.
Such was their spiritual thirst.
But we, though the holy words are always near, prefer—speaking with the words of a preacher—a pillar of announcements to a pillar of living words.
Is there a Gospel in every home? Is it read in every home? Is it read every day? And if it is read, is it with the same thirst for learning as that sinful Samaritan woman had when she listened to the Lord?
The New Testament. A testament is a will. Here our Benefactor, who redeemed us with His own blood, bequeathed to us the great treasure of salvation; He pointed out how to find the great treasure hidden in the field—the Kingdom of God.
Think: how would we listen to the reading of a will in which a relative left us a fortune?
With awe, with eagerness.
If someone left us a map of where treasure was buried, we would study it day and night.
But here, the place of the most precious pearl is marked out—the place of a great and eternal treasure, which moth doth not corrupt, and thieves do not break through and steal. And this will, this map of the path to the treasure—we are too lazy to read.
Hagar is in the desert with her son. They are faint from thirst and await death in despair. The mother turns away from her dying child. “For,” she said, “I cannot bear to see the death of the child.” And she lifted up her voice and wept.
And the angel of God called to Hagar…
“Fear not… Arise, lift up the child and hold him in thine hand.”
And God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of living water, and she went and filled the skin with water and gave the lad to drink…
God opened her eyes…
Oh, if only the Lord would open our eyes, we who faint in the waterless wilderness of life!
We are half-alive, half-dead. There is no living strength in us, no true life, and we need living water to awaken in the soul the power to live a full, radiant life in Christ.
Where is this water?
It need not be sought afar… We must only open our eyes, and—“behold, the well of living water is before us.”
This well—is the Word of God.
Immerse yourselves more often in this holy Bethesda, and your soul shall be watchful and strong. The fog of life shall scatter, and the path to God shall become bright.
But I hear a voice: “We do not avoid the Book of Books—we read it, and yet, the soul does not come alive.”
Perhaps the question lies in how it is read?
Indeed—one must approach the reading with reverence and prayer… For the word of God to bring life, the soul must be made ready to receive the utterances of the Lord.
If medical remedies prove ineffective when a person’s lifestyle or diet contradicts the goal of healing, how then shall the power of the word heal a soul that by the whole disposition of its life resists the holy influence?
Some people come to the Book of Books out of mere curiosity, or even with hostility. To them, its pages remain sealed. Others come with souls poisoned to the very depths by sin and impurity. For such as these, if they do not strive, just before reading, to gather all the pure strength of their spirit, even the Bible itself may become to them a poison.
An impure imagination can see impurity even in the chaste and holy image of the Madonna. Such a person may even find, in the Bible—especially there—fuel for sin.
A mind hostile to God will dwell only on what is confusing or offensive, on those passages that may seem strange to a consciousness formed under the light of Christianity.
Therefore, whoever seeks to find living water must begin with the resolve to surrender to the sacred wave of God’s word, trustfully and humbly.
And then its action shall be miraculous.
One man—later a sincere and deeply believing Christian, author of the famous book The Pilgrim’s Progress—once told how, even in the days of his deep unbelief, he would often read the Bible, though its power did not manifest immediately. At that time, his soul was burdened and full of despair. And even then, some word of Scripture would rise up in his soul and give him courage for two or three hours. And little by little, the power of the divine words grew. One day, their might especially seized him:
“Everything shone in my heart with living light and silenced all the tormenting thoughts that had gnawed at me like a pack of hellish dogs.”
But for a long while, darkness still battled with the light—until at last the divine moment arrived.
The storm passed… The chains fell… The soul found peace…
Another wrote this: “I lived without knowing why I lived… And at times, I did not wish to go on living. But one day, in a torment like agony, I took up the Holy Scripture. My eyes fell on Psalm 38. And the word touched me. It pierced my soul with such force, as though God Himself were praying within me. The soul, long suffering under a heavy weight, now rose on wings. On the wings of faith…
For the first time I slept peacefully, without nightmares. And when I took the Gospel in hand the next day, everything in it seemed new to me.”
Let it be that the word of God does not immediately reveal its holy effect upon us. Take it into your hands often. And one day your eyes shall be opened at once, and you will see: “behold, the source of living water.” And it shall heal your sickness and sorrow.
Last time, we spoke of the prescription given by a renowned physician, who advised reading two chapters of the Gospel at night—this, he claimed, brings peace and calm to the soul and serves as a remedy against nervous afflictions. In this way, even physical health and hygiene call for reading the word of God. All the more, then, is it necessary for the hygiene of the conscience and the soul.
Two chapters in the morning and two in the evening—that is the best prescription for spiritual healing.
“The Kingdom of Heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field” (Matt. 13:44).