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Satisfying a Thirst

Posted on May 28, 2011 by Margaret

Jack and I love our daily ventures to Lake Michigan. The minute we get there, he flops down on his back, legs in the air, wriggling toward the heavens in a happy dance. It’s his canine way of praising God for creating the beach.

The second thing he does is jump into the creek where he gulps a tasty drink, but he’s not the only one. Paw prints in the wet sand prove how many others love the water: deer, rabbits, raccoons, seagulls, dogs and a fox. Adidas and Nike have been there, too, and my bare feet leave additional prints.

I don’t share Jack’s love of a “Creek Cocktail” but apparently the animals prefer that over clear, clean lake water. It’s nice to know local critters have an unlimited water supply, unlike animals living in deserts and other dry areas. Not even the biggest crowd could swallow up Lake Michigan.

All of us need water. We might choose to fast from food for over a month and survive (as Jesus did), but no one can fast from water. We need it daily.

I remember the newspaper account of a man afloat in Lake Michigan on a stalled jet ski. He drifted to where he couldn’t see the shoreline and hoped he would eventually be noticed by a passing boat. Unsure whether or not the lake was safe to drink, he went dry, quickly suffering dehydration. When he eventually drifted ashore several days later, he had nearly died of thirst.

Jesus referred to himself as a source of “living water,” water so life-sustaining we’d be foolish not to drink it. In conversation with a woman who was about to fill her earthen jar from a well, he offered to give her a sample of his supernatural water. She said that no water anywhere could be as good as the well water she was about to retrieve. But Jesus said, “If you realized the significance of what I was offering you and who was offering it, you’d eagerly take it!” (John 4:10)

Thankfully, after two additional days of conversation with Jesus, the woman and many others from her village were able to grasp the incredible value of what he was willing to give, and they drank deeply of it.

Amazingly, Jesus’ water supply is still available to us today. Its benefits are eternal, and when we drink it once, we’ll never thirst for it again. The only requirement is that we bring an empty vessel and a willingness to believe he is who he says he is. After that, he’ll fill it till it overflows.

I’ve tasted this supernatural water, and it is, indeed, life-sustaining and thirst quenching.

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:13)

Shaken Up

Posted on May 24, 2011 by Margaret

What would it be like to live through a tornado? In checking on Joplin, Missouri today, I listened to several testimonies on the internet. As one man told his story, lightning sparked in the background, and he flinched. Fear still lingered.

A doctor in scrubs, standing in front of the destroyed hospital, wiped a tear and said, “Everybody in town is going to personally know someone who’s died in this tornado.”

But saddest of all was the man stopped by a reporter as he picked through the pile of boards that had been his home. The reporter asked, “Have you been able to find everyone?”

The man held up both hands and said, “I just need gloves. I can’t find gloves. How can I dig without gloves?”

Sunday’s storm produced the deadliest single tornado in US weather history, flattening 30% of a town with 50,000 people. One man who’d lived in Joplin all his life said he had to use his GPS to figure out where he was. It located him on Main Street, but there’d been no way to tell.

How does a person endure total devastation and come out on the other side?

First, citizens band together in ways that never would happen without catastrophe. Strangers become friends, and disparities evaporate. Those of different ages, incomes, race and rank join together with a single theme: how can I help you? Willing workers from nearby towns and distant cities pour in by the hundreds to do what needs doing, and by this, victims find the courage to go on.

One seasoned rescue worker described a common response of those returning to the splintered piles that used to be their homes. “They come looking for practical things, glasses, keys, personal papers, photos. It’s a healthy sign that they’re going to make it.”

Secondly, God arrives in special ways. Because he’s in the rescue business with an emphasis on souls, he’s fully prepared for the crowds that will turn to him in desperation. His Word describes what can and can’t be shaken, and though Joplin has been badly shaken, the unshaken still remains: unfailing love, joy in being alive, peace amidst chaos, hope for the future.

And God has a full supply of those, able to meet even the biggest demand. He has already begun rebuilding lives in Joplin. He got there ahead of the Red Cross, FEMA and the governor. And when they and others have gone, he will remain.

As I watched news reports, one interviewer played a cell phone video recorded in a convenience store. As the tornado arrived, screaming intensified, people stumbling over each other. The store went dark, and everyone crowded into a food storage locker. As the tornado’s noise increased, it drowned out the screaming except for one voice, a simple prayer: “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!”

He was in the food locker, too, and after the terrifying two minutes were over, a shout went up: “Thank you Jesus!”

Not one person had been injured.

“All of creation will be shaken and removed, so that only unshakable things will remain.” (Heb. 12:27)

Check the numbers.

Posted on May 23, 2011 by Margaret

Tonight my mind and heart are still at yesterday’s memorial service for Jim Rabb, the 32 year old son of good friends. Though hundreds assembled to honor his memory and encourage his brokenhearted family, the event was sorrowful.

As we waited for the service to begin, I studied the program and noticed we’d be hearing from both of Jim’s parents. His mom and I grew up together at Moody Church, and once we’d married and had families of our own, we spent summers in Michigan cottages a block apart.

Jim’s father, John, shared valiantly and effectively about the strong relationship he had with his son, but because I’m a mother like my friend Lois, I longed to know what she was thinking. Speaking at this emotionally-packed occasion would be a burdensome task, and I admired her willingness to stand in front of a microphone at all.

Lois did a beautiful job, and her words held power. She talked warmly about her son, describing daily phone chats and frequent affirmation of their love for each other, from the time he was a little boy.

Then she told a story about her favorite Scripture verse, Romans 8:28. “We know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” Through the years, the Lord has sent what she called “little hugs” through those biblical reference numbers, again and again.

For example, on New Year’s Day this year, she was luxuriating in a morning when she didn’t have to set her alarm or get up early. As she lay in bed talking to the Lord in the first moments of a new year, she turned to see what time it was. Her bedside clock said, “8:28”, a little hug from God to start off well.

Five months later, after having just heard the devastating news of her only son’s sudden death, she looked again at a clock. At that critical moment, it said, “8:28”. As her heart was racing double-time and her head pounding with an impossible reality, God gave her a firm hug and said, “Lois, you can’t see it now, but my purposes in all this are positive and far-reaching. Everything is going to turn out well.”

A mother who’s able to stand and speak to hundreds at her own child’s memorial service could only do it because God was already making good on his 8:28 promise to her.

Tonight, just before I sat down to write this post, I went to the kitchen for some iced tea. As my mind flooded with thoughts of Jim and his family, I glanced at my oven clock.