This is adapted from a devotional I gave at a recent women’s ministry event. It turns out I much prefer the writing to the speaking—there were several moments during the actual presentation that I almost asked my daughter to finish it out for me, just so my knees could stop shaking! But I’m happy to be able to share it with you all.
The Bible is FULL of references to water. Why is that? Water was life for people in the Bible in a way that is very easy to forget in comfy, affluent, 21st-century Ohio.
We can get water from fountains, sinks, filters, refrigerators, coffee shops, restaurants. We can choose between spring water, sparkling water, flavored water, still water, coconut water. We have flavor packs that we can sprinkle into our water. We have machines to turn our water into soda—right in our own homes!
In fact, I am so spoiled, if I can’t find strawberry-flavored, sparkling water from either of only two brands, I DON’T DRINK WATER. That’s how spoiled I am—because I have no reason to think that water won’t be available at literally any moment I ever need it. And so far, I’ve always been right!
This was not the case for the writers of the Bible (or for millions of people around the world today)—water was NO JOKE to these people. (and shouldn’t be to us). Lack of adequate water (even in the short term) leads to memory loss, cognitive issues, kidney damage, too-low blood pressure, digestive issues, and dry skin—which, itself, allows pathogens to enter the body.
I’d like you to put yourself in the mindset of a Middle Eastern, pre-Christianity Jew—one of the people we read about in the Bible.
Close your eyes…
We are nearing the end of our daily time of rest, the time when the world around us is its hottest, most stifling, with the sun—blindingly—high in the sky.
It’s September, so we can assume that the sky is clear, the temperatures are in the mid- to upper-80s, and that there has been very little rain for months—which will continue for at least two months more.
If you’re a woman who is able to work, you have already provided two meals today for your family, which is likely to be quite large. You have had to do this while keeping to strict laws regarding kashrut—Jewish dietary laws.
You have spent your morning hard at work—perhaps cleaning, perhaps mending or washing clothes, perhaps teaching your children or memorizing Scriptures with them. It’s possible that you also recited prayers with the community this morning and may again this evening. It’s almost certain that you have spent your morning baking, a task that will continue for the rest of the day.
If you’re a girl, you have spent the morning trailing after your mother—learning to clean, cook, bake, make, repair, manage. You’ve also, probably, had lessons of some kind: learning the songs, stories, and Scriptures of your people.
Even if you’re a very young girl, you’ve still had work to do. It’s hard to learn how to dress yourself. It’s hard to learn how to take care of the even-younger siblings you almost inevitably have. It’s hard to do all this, while remembering to pray the right prayers at the right times.
If you’re a woman whose working days are behind her, you are not completely off the hook. Your daughter or daughter-in-law, the female leader of your household, needs help managing and teaching the children and keeping the household running smoothly. You also might have duties to the community, reasons that they seek out your wisdom and experience.
In short, no matter your age or your station in life, you have had a physically exhausting day already, and you’ve done it all with very little water to drink, in a hot, arid climate.
Can everyone picture this?
No wonder the mid-day meal was such a respite. Now, you can sit. Now, you can drink. Now, you can be refreshed.
Okay, you can open your eyes. Let’s dive in.
In the beginning, God created a garden, didn’t he? And He called His garden Eden, a word that means “delightful place,” “pleasure, delight,” or “well-watered place.” Whatever the translation, it’s clear that Eden was created as a place of fulfillment, contentment, rest, a place empty of worry or care.
And then He peopled it. Adam and Eve were created for Eden, and Eden was created for them—they were meant to be delighted, pleased, fulfilled, content, and restful—empty of worry or care.
But they weren’t meant to manufacture those things on their own.
No—in every nook and cranny of Eden is something created specifically for God’s people: maybe a waterfall here or a beautiful flower there or a tree bearing good fruit over there. These things are God’s gifts to his beloved creations. They are designed specifically to sustain them, to nurture the relationship between God and His beloveds—a relationship characterized by God’s care for them and by their worship of Him.
And then—we know the story. The creations fall and, suddenly, Eden isn’t such a good place for them anymore. Suddenly, they have to leave. And now, these creations that have been made specifically for God’s abundance are left in a world that isn’t already filled with delight, pleasure, or water.
But the relationship between God’s people and water doesn’t end there.
Hundreds—maybe thousands—of years later, a man named Eliezer takes a trip. He travels from Canaan, all the way to Mesopotamia, on behalf of his master, Abraham. His mission? To find a wife for Abraham’s son, Isaac. A smart man, Eliezer pulls up in front of the town well, knowing that this is the best way to see the eligible women. Even smarter, he begins his mission not with a pep talk but with a prayer. Interestingly, he doesn’t pray for a beautiful woman, a funny woman, a modest woman, or even a kind woman. Instead, he prays for a woman who will give him a drink.
It isn’t long before he succeeds in finding Rebekah, a woman who, a mere 50 verses later, will comfort her new husband and be loved by him.
We’re going to jump ahead again, hundreds (maybe thousands) of years later, to a young man who has just sat down to write a song. David, recently anointed and likely fleeing from his enemies at the time, writes six verses that will change millions of people’s lives over the next three thousand years. Among the handful of words he writes are these: “my cup overflows.”
Why are these words so significant?
To understand why, we need to put ourselves back in the mind of Eliezer, and of Adam and Eve, and of those pre-Christianity Jews. Water is life. And it’s hard to come by. To find yourself in a situation or with a Person who not only fills your cup for you but gives you more than enough is unheard of. Enough is what these people shoot for. And for David—tasked with ruling a nation, fleeing death at the hands of his crazed, paranoid father-in-law, and all-too-familiar with his own sins (which will be compounded beyond comprehension in the years to come)—the image of a God whose love, care, attention, and generosity cannot be contained must be incredibly soothing.
Our last time-jump takes us about a thousand years into the future. Here, we see a thirsty, tired, unwanted young man, and a woman, tired in a way she doesn’t even recognize, seeking some solace.
Jesus has left Judea ahead of the Pharisees and is making his way back to Galilee—on the way, he’s going through Samaria, apparently not caring that this is a place that Good Jews do not go. In a small Samaritan town called Sychar, Jesus stops in front of the town well to wait for the woman he knows is coming.
He doesn’t have long to wait. Even though it’s about noon—hours off from the time that most women gathered water—a woman soon comes to him.
Here, Jesus turns all we’ve said about drinking water so far on its head.
“Can you give me some water?” he asks.
“Why are you asking me?” she says.
“If you knew who I was, you would be asking me…and I would give you living water…you will never be thirsty again after this spring of water that wells up to eternal life.”
Just like everything else he did during (and after) his life, Jesus has flipped things on their heads. Instead of finding beauty in being given water, like Adam, Eve, Eliezer, and David, Jesus offers the beauty of giving water—and not just any water, but living water! Water of eternal life!
Only a couple of years later, Jesus will sit at a table, surrounded by his closest friends, and hold up a cup. He will tell them, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.”
Again, he is turning things on their heads. Instead of hoarding drink, he is pouring it out. Instead of the Mosaic covenant, he is bringing in a new one. Instead of blood being unclean, it is literally the only thing that will save us. (And—what his followers can’t know yet—instead of death being the end, it’s about to become the beginning.)
So here we are now: relatively comfortable, affluent, Western-Civilization-raised, midwestern Americans. What are we to make of the idea of “Fill my cup”?
Let’s think back to our forebears. Adam and Eve were given a home that was perfect and overflowing with life. Eliezer was given a drink, as a way of God’s provision. David pictured God as Someone who poured out drink for His creations. The woman at the well was given living water and never thirsted for truth again. And Jesus’ disciples were given the new covenant in Jesus’ blood from the cup that was poured out for them.
In every single instance, God is the active one. We are passive. The theme of this devotional is not Filling My Cup—it’s Fill My Cup, a (polite) command (or request, if you like). The bottom line is that we can’t fill our cups. We just took a journey of thousands of years, through various cultures, and with disparate characters; none of them filled their own cups. They all relied on God to do it for them. Or they marveled at God when He did it for them.
Stop trying to fill your cup. God’s been filling cups for thousands and thousands of years—He’s really good at it. And if we let Him do His thing, we will never thirst again.
Very encouraging to me today!
Love reading this again and taking my time on the words. You did amazing!