There is a well
near here,
full of clear,
sweet water.
The light catches on it and shimmers across
the brick and dances in front of my eyes.
I have tasted this water before,
when my throat was parched, and my lips
caught on my dry teeth
and cracked.
It soothed my mouth and with it
brought life to every part of my being.
Filled, made whole by
life-giving liquid.
Satisfied, I forgot the taste of the water
and neglected the Fountain.
Thistles grew up the sides of the well and obscured the dancing light.
I began to be thirsty
and looked elsewhere and discovered
a puddle nearby,
with only a little dirt.
I had been told
that this water was proven to quench thirst
and bring life,
and sooth a restless soul.
But I found,
on drinking there, that my lips were numbed and the effects did not last.
From puddle to puddle,
I looked hopefully
for rescuing,
assuaging,
quenching powers.
But each puddle
promised much
and delivered little.
And God, in His goodness
opened my eyes,
mid-lap,
to the dirt
on my knees and the ache
in me,
and reminded me of the
Fountain
where I could drink deeply
and be filled.
So, I cleared the well
and pulled down the vines
and dug up the thistles.
I set up a sign
and called to my neighbours,
my family and friends,
‘Drink of this well and be filled.
Drink and have joy.
Drink and renew hope.’
Let us run from the broken vessels
and dirty pools
and see
where our hearts settle
when we look for joy in the created thing
instead of the Creator.
When we quench our thirst in a puddle
instead of at the Fountain,
when we seek joy,
but not in Him.
Let us go to the Fountain,
and drink deeply at the well.
