THE QUEST FOR THE LIVING WATERS
It was another extremely hot day, the kind of day that leaves you feeling drained and tired. I sat down listlessly under the shade of some trees to rest. Wishing I had brought along something to drink, as my throat was dry and my head was beginning to ache. I sat for a time just gazing at nothing in particular until I became aware that I was not alone. Nearby, leaning against another tree, stood a man; he was watching me with a smile on his face. I am always cautious around strangers, so I didn’t immediately smile back at him, but looked at him, in what I hoped was a confident, and if necessary, uninviting way. He seemed a harmless sort of fellow however, and looked impossibly cool and comfortable despite the relentless heat.
‘You thirsty?’ he inquired after a while. I nodded, still feeling a little wary.
‘I have some water here,’ he said, taking a large bottle out of his bag. ‘Would you like some? It is living water.’ He took a cup from his bag and proceeded to pour the water into it. It looked so good and clear and wet. And my throat was so dry. He handed me the cup. I took the cup and sniffed the water; it seemed fine so I took a little sip and to my surprise found that it was the coolest, freshest, purest water that I had ever tasted. The man produced another cup from his bag and poured a drink for himself, and then he sat down and proceeded to tell me his story, the story that I now bring to you in his own words, the story of his quest for the living water.
I used to live in a large city, he begun. It was a noisy dirty place, overcrowded with many people who came to live there to try to make their fortunes. There was much industry, and the air was heavy with the fumes of it, the water supply of the city was contaminated by it and was in short supply. I felt choked and trapped in that place, but could see no way out. Dead wastelands and arid desert areas surrounded the city. As water was in such short supply and so vile anyway, we would liberally drink wine, beer and spirits to quench our thirsts and dull our minds to the hopeless situation in which we lived. This however only made my thirsts - physical and spiritual - greater and more overwhelming.
Then one day a man came to our city, he said he was a messenger from the Keeper and Giver of the Living Waters. He brought with him many bottles of water; such as the one which I have shared with you today. When I tasted it I knew that this was what I wanted, and I asked the man where I could get more. The messenger told me of the streams of living water which were for everyone who would accept them, and he spoke of the Keeper and Giver of the Living waters who was waiting to share them with any who would come. My heart longed for that place, so I asked the messenger where it was and how I could find it. He provided me with a map and book of instructions, and because most of the journey would be through desert places he also provided me with some bottles of the precious water to keep me from dying of thirst along the way.
I made careful preparations for my journey. I assumed that somewhere that was as wonderful as the Streams of Living Water would be a very costly place in which to stay, so I sold all I had to finance my venture and pay my way.
I studied my map and instruction book carefully, then when all was ready I said farewell to my friends and set off on my quest for the Living Waters.
As I expected the going was not easy, the waste lands and dead lands seemed to stretch forever, and I had to watch my step, as it was quite treacherous underfoot. If any doubts crept into my mind about my quest however, I just needed to take a sip from one of the bottles of water and my resolve to continue was strengthened. Yet it was a lonely journey, and I often wished for company to help pass the time. Then one day it seemed as if my wish had been granted, for I came upon a fellow traveler who appeared to be going in the same direction as myself. It was so good to have someone else to talk to and share the journey with. I told him all about my quest to find the streams of living water, how I had met the messenger, sold my possessions and set off on this long journey. He seemed really interested and said that he had heard of the place and he would like to come along too. We traveled together in easy companionship for some time, then after awhile we stopped for a rest and to refresh ourselves. As usual I pulled out my map to check that we were heading in the right direction. I felt it was important to do so because now we were well into the desert area and the route was not so clearly defined. My new friend glanced at my map, then told me we really didn’t need it as he knew this area like the back of his hand, he often traveled this way, and besides he knew a really easy good short cut that would bring me to the place I sought much quicker. He seemed a good sort of chap and insisted it would shorten the length of my journey considerably, so I folded my map and we set of again. As the evening drew on we decided to make camp for the night. I shared some of my provisions and water with him and then as I was so tired from the hard day of travel, I settled down to sleep.
The next morning I woke to the sun beating down on my head, and found myself all alone. This man who had seemed so friendly and helpful had disappeared. He had taken with him all I had, my provisions, clothes and money. But worst of all he had taken my water, my instruction book and my map. Now I was stranded in a barren place with nothing, and without any idea of where to go. True I had studied my map so many times before, but my traveling companion of the previous day had led me so far from the route I should be on that I was now hopelessly lost
For some time I sat there in the scorching sun just waiting to die, but soon the anger I felt forced me to get up. I tried to retrace the path we had taken, but realized I was more hopelessly lost than before. Just when I felt ready to give up I came across another man, sitting in the shade of a rock, holding tightly to a large container of water and peering about anxiously as if expecting someone to jump on him at any moment. He didn’t see me at first, so when I spoke a word of greeting he nearly jumped out of his skin with fright and dropped his container. He scrambled to retrieve it and clasping it tightly again he peered at me with guilty suspicion.
‘What do you want?’ he grumbled.
I explained who I was, and my plight, and that I was trying to find the place of Living Waters. Then I asked him if I could perhaps have a little of the water from his container to drink as all mine had been stolen. He told me in no uncertain terms to go away, I won’t repeat his language for it would embarrass me greatly, but the gist of his comments were to go and get my own water. It appears that he had found the place of Living Water, and in order not to come face to face with the ‘Keeper and Giver’ of the water, who he plainly feared meeting, he had waited until nightfall and then crept in and filled his container when no one could see. Now he was staying out of the way in case he was caught and dragged off to face the one he seemed to fear so much. He felt that because he had, to his own way of thinking, been so daring and risked so much to get the water, there was no way he was going to share it with a no-hoper like myself. I asked him if he could at least point me in the direction I should travel, which he grudgingly did. When I left him he was surreptitiously taking the top from his container, and raising it to his lips, all the while darting cautious glances around about. He didn’t appear to be enjoying his water too much.
Parched and thirsty, I stumbled on in what I hoped was now the correct direction. I wondered as I went if the Keeper and Giver of the streams of living water was really so terrifying as the man had made out, and if so how was I going to face him with nothing left with which to pay for the water. Maybe he could find me some work that I could do in return for a chance to stay by the streams.
Thinking about streams of water whilst being nearly dehydrated seemed to sap what little strength I had. My legs felt weak and wobbly, my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth, my eyes were gritty and sore, and my head felt like it was on fire. I couldn’t go on, and collapsed on my hands and knees in the scorching sand. I would have wept but there was nothing left within me with which to produce tears. That’s when I heard someone whistling a jolly tune and coming towards me. Looking up I saw a man dressed in a safari suit pulling a trolley behind him packed with bottles of water, just like the ones the messenger had given me.
‘I say old chap, you look rather the worse for wear’, he observed rather accurately. ‘You wouldn’t be in need of a little spot of wet stuff would you by any chance old thing?’ He asked in a concerned manner.
My throat was so parched I couldn’t answer; I barely managed a nod,
‘I have just the thing for you, you poor fellow, here let me give you a hand’. He kindly held one of those glorious bottles to my mouth and the clear pure elixir flowed down my throat. Almost immediately I felt the refreshing healing quality of what I knew to be the Living Water reviving me. ‘There now isn’t that better’ he said, ‘there is nothing like water from the streams of life to refresh a soul’.
He went on to tell me that he had just been to the streams of living water to visit with the ‘Keeper and Giver’ and to refill these water bottles. Now he was off to pit his wits against the desert again, he told me how he found it a challenge living in the desert and he would probably stay there until his water run out, and then he would return to the streams for a refreshing break before setting out for another adventure. He kindly gave me detailed instructions on how find my destination, and took his leave. It occurred to me that he talked as if it were some sort of holiday resort to which I was heading. I had been hoping it would be a place in which I could stay permanently.
Somewhat refreshed and revitalized I carried on my quest, sure now that I was on the right track and closer to my destination. Ahead of me I could make out the shapes of trees and I really hoped they were not just a mirage. As I drew closer I heard the sound of bitter weeping, and saw approaching me a man carrying a clay pot from which trailed water. When he drew near I saw that the pot was badly made with cracks from which the last trickles of water were escaping. ‘Are you heading for the Streams of Living Water’, he sobbed as he finally caught sight of me through his tears. ‘Well let me tell you it is a sham and a fraud, I went there with this perfectly good pot that I made with my very own hands, and look the water won’t stay in it. I am not staying around here any more. What good is the water if it doesn’t fill the pot I made?’ And with those words he walked off.
I felt a little confused by his words, but the sound of water so close by soon drove me on. The desert sand gave way to green grass, the barren landscape was soon clothed in verdant trees, and there in front of me at last I saw the flowing waters of the stream. I moved forward, half expecting this to be a mirage that would disappear or move away, but it was real. Beautiful water, that looked like clear gold gleaming in the sunlight.
As I moved towards it I saw someone dressed in white standing at the waters edge. I felt a little afraid, here was no doubt the ‘Keeper and Giver of the Water of Life’ himself. What should I do? What was I to say? I longed for the water, but I had nothing to offer this person to whom they belonged.
‘Welcome’, he said ‘I was expecting you. Come and find refreshment my child’.
I was overwhelmed by his words. I replied that I had nothing to give him to pay for the water, and I told him about how I had been tricked and robbed by the man I had met as I began my journey.
‘I know of the man you met,’ he replied, ‘He has led many people astray. But do not be unhappy that you cannot offer me anything to pay for this water. It is free, it is I who am offering it to you, all you need to do is to accept and enjoy.’
Why then, I asked him, if the water is free, did the other man to whom I had spoken in the dessert feel that he had to sneak in during the night and steal the water when no one could see?
He explained, ‘I could see when he came to take the water that night and it made me sad that he should come here in that way. What I offer is free to all who will accept. He only had to ask and it would have been given him. What he feels he has stolen will not refresh him, but only make his thirst worse. He needs to come openly and he will be forgiven and have the right to drink freely from the waters.’
My heart felt like singing as I listened to his words, I saw how lovely this place was and I wanted to stay forever, but I remembered the kind jolly gent who had helped me when I was ready to give up. I told the Keeper and Giver about how that gentleman had assisted me, and I was wondering how long I could stay in this place, as I really did have no where else to go.
‘There is no need for you to leave here,’ he replied, ‘the streams of living water are forever, come to me here and you will never thirst again. I know the man you met, who helped you. He is someone I care about a lot, but he refuses to stay here. He comes and seeks refreshment and I beg him to stay, but he insists on going out continually to sit in the desert until his water runs out again and he becomes thirsty and desperate. For some reason it makes him feel he is in control of his destiny and that in doing this he is facing the challenge of the desert and beating it. But he does not really understand the deadly danger of what he is doing. I know and have already faced and conquered the desert dangers for you all, and I offer you life. One day, I am afraid, he may stray so far into the wilderness that he will lose his way back home, and then his grief will be greater because he knows so well what he has wandered away from’. The Keeper and Giver looked deeply sad as he said this, then he added with a smile. ‘But I know those who are my own, and it is not my will that any of my own be lost, that stubborn gent will be found and I will bring home in the end.’
What of the man with the cracked clay pot I asked, he seemed so sad and angry. Will he too eventually have his thirst quenched? Again the Keeper and Giver looked grieved and deeply troubled. ‘That man will never find satisfaction, until he relinquishes that pot which he has made. He is trying to fill a cracked and imperfect pot of his own design and making with the living water, instead of freely drinking of the water, which is freely given. The pot he has made is incapable of holding any water, yet he will not give it up. I am afraid that even if he fills it with bad water from a stagnant pond he will find no more satisfaction, the bad water will flow through the cracks just as the good water did, and he will again be left thirsty.’ He shook his head sadly, then looked at me and smiled. ‘But now for you my child there is a celebration. Come drink now deeply from the waters and let them refresh and cleanse you, then come sit at my banqueting table and be satisfied with all I offer.’
I looked and saw a large table being filled with all kinds of delicious foods and realized just how hungry I was as well as thirsty. So I knelt at the waters edge and scooped some of that lovely clear water that I craved so much into my hands and drunk, then I splashed some over my face. I was shocked to hear the Keeper and Giver burst into loud laughter, and looked at him in amazement. What had I done that had been so amusing?
‘You are only a little bit thirsty,’ he chuckled, ‘only a little bit hot tired and dusty? Plunge right in my son it is for you, it is ever new, ever pure, enjoy it to the full, play in it, frolic in it, refresh yourself in it. Go on now; don’t just take a little in your hands. Dive in, enjoy, then come and eat.’
So I did, I stood up took a deep breath and plunged into those clear golden waters, and there are not words enough to describe what it is like, and how it feels. You will have to experience it for yourself.
‘The invitation to come to the living waters is for you too’, finished the stranger as I handed him back his cup. If you are thirsty my friend, come to him and you too can refresh yourself in the streams of Living Water, which are forever’.
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