Living Water

By Pamela Rosales

Nearly 600 years before the birth of Christ, the people of Israel had been exiled to Babylon (Iraq). Ezekiel, one of God’s prophets, is taken from there on a visual journey. He sees ankle-deep water flowing from the threshold of the temple in Jerusalem. As it streams forth it becomes a river too deep to cross. Lining both sides of the river are trees with lasting fruit for food, and leaves for healing that never wither. (See Ezekiel 47:1-12)

The river empties into the sea, making the salt water fresh. Where the river flows all things live. However, swamps and marshes, beyond the river’s flow, are salt-dead.

Centuries after Ezekiel’s vision, Jesus stands at a well and says to a Samaritan woman, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who I am, you would ask me, and I would give you living water.” John 4:1-30

She was confused because he had no rope or bucket to draw water from the well, but he said, “People soon become thirsty again after drinking this water. But the water I give them takes away thirst altogether. It becomes a perpetual spring within them, giving them eternal life.”

Is there a thirst in our souls that can’t be quenched? Does spending, eating, drinking, working or other attractions leave us still parched? Have words, actions or situations left us hurt and bitter, or stripped us of confidence? Jesus knows all about it; He suffered everything we have and more.

Jesus Christ is Ezekiel’s river. He gives life to all of us who believe in Him. We must dive in and be bathed in His renewing water.

Jesus will feed us everlasting fruit that nourishes our souls and changes our lives. He will reproduce His fruit in us so that we grow in our love for Him and are enabled to serve Him. We will become like the trees along the riverbank, our roots drawing life from the river.

God will produce healing leaves that will be like an ointment to our minds and spirits, relieving the pain inflicted by this world, and using us to be a means of healing for others.

Swamps and marshes, stagnant with salt, have no life to offer. Those of us who refuse the River choose to live in the blackwater of inevitable death.

We must come to the River, stick our toes in, feel its refreshing coolness, and drink in its thirst-quenching purity. We must come away from the sun-scorched salt pit and rest in the shade of the leaves. Then, like the woman at the well, we can tell everyone we know, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did! Could this be the Christ?”

Pamela Rosales writes from Aloha, Oregon. rosales.reporting@gmail.com