In the middle of Africa there is a great desert called the Kalahari. As the hot sun approaches in the summer, the pools dry up, leaving the catfish stranded in hot mud. The grass shrivels and dies; the grazing animals move restlessly around looking for the last, rare stagnant pools of water that are rapidly drying. The weaker animals die off and the stronger ones get weaker and weaker, struggling to survive in the hot, dry sun. Then the elephants start moving south. They have been pulling bark off of the dry trees, trying to get moisture, but they remember that as summer ends, the rainwater from the highlands starts to slowly move down the dry bed of the Okavango River into the delta, flooding 4,000 square miles of desert.
Then the water comes down the dry river bed and overwhelms the pools. The surviving catfish drink in the rich, oxygenated water. The water overflows the pools until the whole desert is flooded. Great tangles of green grass begin to flourish; the grazing animals move in by the thousands. The predators follow. The water is full of fish. Flocks of birds numbering in the millions descend, and the desert becomes a great fertile, green grassland.
This is the figure that Isaiah uses in chapter 35. "The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice even with joy and singing: the glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon, they shall see the glory of the LORD, and the excellency of our God" (Isa. 35:1-2).
After the judgment of nations, when life fails and the thirst of death is upon them, God promised that the water will move in and bring life to the desert. Israel should have remembered this from their history. After they were delivered from Egypt, they were in a hard way. They were in the desert and they had no water. They complained to Moses. God commanded Moses to strike the rock, and water would flow. Moses did so. He struck the rock, and water flowed; the people drank.
We are just as dry and lifeless as the desert. Without water what fruit can grow? But we think that we are lush gardens of hope and joy and love. Sin is deceitful, and our hearts convince us that we are really wellsprings of life, when we are actually barren. We see ourselves as the pinnacles of goodness; the deep, clear pools of love and understanding. If everyone was as fertile and fruitful as we are, the world would be a better place.
Unless our eyes are opened by the Holy Spirit, we will refuse to see how desolate we truly are. So we seek to find our water in the broken cisterns of the earth.
The Pharisees were sure that the problem was everyone around them. The others are sinners and they need to learn how to obey. "These people that know not the law are cursed."
They denied that they themselves were as dry and barren as everyone around them. They were the experts on the law. Who is this Jesus person and how dare he say to us that we are under the curse of death and separated from life?
They thought that if they could get a reputation of being righteous and wise, then they didn't have to actually be righteous or wise. So they pretended a great love and zeal for the law even as they were plotting to betray and crucify Jesus, contrary to the law.
The priests were mostly Sadducees. They were the political leaders and they loved their position. "Everyone knows that we are significant, worthy of respect. We are the educated ones; we have the backing of Rome. We will quench our thirst by achieving power and strength in this world."
How can Jesus say that we are devoid of life? Doesn't he see how everyone respects us? Doesn't he see how careful we are with our tithes? Doesn't he see how meticulously we keep everyone in line? We are quite good at telling everyone what is wrong with them, with society, with our government and with our culture. How can he say that we have no life?
These things were taking place during the Feast of the Tabernacles. This feast commemorated the Exodus from Egypt and the wanderings in the wilderness. On the last day of the feast, there was a great ceremony to remember the water from the rock. On this day, the priests would lead a procession through the temple. They would get water from the pool of Siloam, parade through the temple, and pour it over the altar. Then everyone would sing psalms and remember the water flowing from the rock. They would remember how their ancestors were in the desert, under the threat of death. They would remember that the rock was struck and water flowed for the people to drink.
What they would not remember was that all of those people died in the wilderness. Even though they had physical water, they were as dry, desolate, and fruitless as a desert. They had no fruits of love, joy, or peace. They were unthankful, contentious, bitter, angry, and covetous.
Having the law written on stone had never changed a hard heart. The people that Jesus was teaching had the same dry, hard hearts as their fathers. So even though they remembered the water pouring from the rock and they were watching the ceremony on the last great day of the feast, they would not be seeking the True Rock, who was to be struck that he might pour out living water,
So on the last day, after the pouring of water on the altar, Jesus stood up where everyone could see him and he cried with a loud voice, "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink."
The invitation is given to all who are thirsty. Thirst is a very apt analogy. The Bible teaches that the whole world is under the sentence of death. All men are thirsty, but how many acknowledge their thirst? There are none that seek after God.
Calvin writes, "Many persons do not stir a foot, but wretchedly wither and decay, and there are even very many who are not affected by a perception of their emptiness, until the Spirit of God, by his own fire, kindle hunger and thirst in their hearts. It belongs to the Spirit, therefore, to cause us to desire his grace."
But all men, though they will not acknowledge God nor recognize their true thirst, suffer under God's curse. The pain of thirst is so overpowering that the very strongest men fall and are consumed by it. They seek to quench their thirst by amassing wealth, doing good deeds, acquiring knowledge and power, or attempting to flee from reality. But what good is the tithe of mint and aloe to a dying man? What will he do with his wealth when he is dead with thirst? He spent his life gaining a reputation for wisdom. He has come to believe that he is a man worthy of respect among dying men-but what good is it when he is dead of thirst? All men are desolate and barren, but none will come to drink unless their eyes are opened by the Holy Spirit.
We cannot come to Christ unless we thirst. We must cast off our riches and our strength. We must bid farewell to our wisdom, to our affections, and to the covetousness of idolatry. We must acknowledge that all of our righteousness is as filthy rags and our wisdom is the most sublime folly. We must finally see the true worth of our loves, our hates, our grudges, our dreams, our goals, our very lives...what good are those things to a man dying of thirst? When we finally realize that we are in a desert and our souls are as dry as dust with the sentence of death hanging over our heads, we finally hear the sweet voice of our Savior from which we have been hiding for so long: "Come to me, all who are thirsty."
God created us to bear fruit, but we cannot-for we have no strength. When the Holy Spirit strips away all of the pretences and lies with which we have covered ourselves, we realize that our love is actually hatred. Our joy is actually contempt and anger towards God and our neighbor. Our peace is restless discontent and buried rage. We are quick to respond in anger and slow to hear. We bite and devour one another. We are all corrupt, born in sin, and incapable of any fruit whatsoever. Our worship is done to be seen by men; our prayers are empty and vain. We are broken and hollow men, in a crooked and perverse generation. We are the dry chaff of the sage weed in the desert sand.
This is our true thirst. Our souls are barren, dry, and lifeless. But then we hear the voice shouting over the tumult of the crowds, "All who thirst, come to me and drink."
Jesus is the rock. He was struck for our offenses. He ascended into heaven and is sitting at the right hand of God, still calling throughout the world, "Come to me and drink." And everyone who believes on him receives the Holy Spirit (v. 39).
"The parched ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water; in the habitation of jackals, where each lay, there shall be grass with reeds and rushes" (Isa 35:7).
Into our dry and lifeless husks, the cleansing and life-giving water flows. Where all we had was the barrenness of hatred, anger, wrath, malice, and discontent, we now see the true beginning of the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, and temperance (Gal. 5:22-23).
The hardness of man's heart is seen in the next verse. You would think that crowds would have flocked to him seeking this water, but this isn't what happened. We read that the people immediately began bickering and debating over words. They got into a discussion about the prophecy of Micah 5:2. They debated whether he was the prophet that was foretold by Moses, or whether he was the political Messiah that they were expecting. Some were right, some were wrong, but none of them came to Christ! It is better to be right than to be wrong, but what good is it if you do not come to Christ and drink?
Such is human nature. We are told that we are lifeless and dead but water is freely available, and we immediately change the subject and begin to discuss the minutia of the law. We think that if we impress those around us by our doctrinal sophistication, we won't actually have to repent. We look for deep and hidden messages and wax eloquent about the doctrines of grace-but we don't repent and come to Christ! We can discuss supralapsarianism with aplomb; debate the meaning of the thousand years; we can tear the Arminian to shreds with the astounding wisdom of Jonathan Edwards; we are quite good at telling everyone else what is wrong with them-but if we don't come to Christ, what good is it?
Or we can talk about how we feel. We can work ourselves up to spectacular visions of ecstasy; we can move ourselves to tears with the right praise song. We can say all of the right pious phrases at all the right times, hold our hands in just the right way-but if we don't come to Christ, what good is it?
But the Bible strips away our pretense and calls us again to Jesus to drink.
"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing" (1 Co. 13:1-3).
This is where the barrenness and dryness of the desert show themselves. We have no love. We pretend we do by using the right phrases or working up the right feelings; we change the meanings of words to excuse ourselves. We think that we have exhausted the requirements of love because we didn't steal from someone, or because we didn't sleep with their wives or plot their murder. Or we excuse ourselves by claiming that no one ever shows us the right kind of love. But Paul strips away those excuses in the rest of the chapter 13, because true love only comes one way-it is the fruit of the Spirit. It can exist only when we see our thirst and come to Christ and drink.
For we are not saved by our feelings, we are saved by Christ. We are not saved by our theological acumen, we are saved by Christ. He is the savior who pours out the water that we need, but how often do we ask him for it? How often do we pray for the Holy Spirit to water our dry and dusty souls? Often when we fall into thanklessness and sin we seek to overcome by steadfast resolve. But how can a lifeless soul bring forth life? We have not because we ask not (James 4:2).
We confess that "God will give his grace and Holy Spirit only to those who earnestly and without ceasing beg them of Him, and render thanks unto him for them" (HC Q116). What good does it do to memorize this, learn it, know it and confess it if you don't do it!?
And we don't do it as we should because oftentimes deep down inside we don't really believe that we are all that thirsty.
The Pharisees were also covenant people and thought that they were well-springs of life. But how much life did they actually have? Jesus has stripped away their pretenses. He showed them that they were plotting his murder even as they were glorying in the law (John 7:19). Where was their fruit of love and joy?
The crowds were in the temple, singing the hymns, offering the sacrifices, and paying their vows. They saw the miracles, debated who Christ was, and very soon would be crying out for his death. Where was their fruit?
How much power did the Sadducees have? They couldn't even arrest Jesus (John 7:45-52). He was preaching openly. He stood up and shouted. But they couldn't touch him.
This is the wisdom and power and love of men. We speak eloquently of love, while crying out for the blood of our neighbor. We are proud of our wisdom and learning, and can't even see that we are dying in the desert when water is right within reach. We are confident in our strength, power, and plans, but the police force, the powerful Sanhedrin, and priests and the Pharisees could do nothing-because His time was not yet come.
The officers returning to the Sanhedrin reported, "No one ever spoke like this man." That is indeed true. The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us. The Word of God incarnate is not like a man, giving an opinion about God, but he is God himself. The same Word that called forth the light, that upholds all things by the Word of His power; the same Word who spoke, and it was done-now calls out, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink."
He doesn't lie. The water is not in the broken cisterns. Our life is not in ourselves. We are not smart enough. We are not loving enough. We are not strong enough. We are not good enough. Come out of the desert. The living water is here.
