"I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb.
Strike the rock, and water will come out of it,
so that the people may drink." Exodus 17.6
Grammatical Caveat: Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation (i.e., are written for the ear), the written accounts occasionally deviate from proper and generally accepted principles of grammar and punctuation. Most often, these deviations are not mistakes per se but are indicative of an attempt to aid the listener in the delivery of the sermon.
“When We Thirst—God Gives Us Water”
Exodus 17.1-7
16th Sunday After Pentecost Year A
I could feel something happening to me. My body began to feel strange. My lips were dry, my mouth parched. Above me in the sky, the August sun bore down: I could feel it turning my skin pink. Sweat drenched my back, staining the hat I wore on my head. For what seemed like hours, I was in the sun: running, playing, and practicing over and over and over. My body was exhausted, my head was pounding, and by this point, my eyes weren't seeing so straight. If only we could stop. If only we could take a break: after all, this was dangerous, practicing this long in the hot sun on this dusty baseball field without a break. But I knew better than to ask the coach, or even complain about being thirsty. I began to internally lament my choices: how I wished I was at home in the air-conditioning, surrounded by sodas and bags of chips, and most importantly, out from underneath the scorching sun.
Finally, the word came. Our activity stopped. We went to the watering hole (which was a giant Gatorade jug), and from it, we drank deeply. From this water, we regained our energy. Our dry lips turned bright red. Our dried mouths ached when the cold water hit our teeth. After much-needed hydration, I could think and see straighter and be more fully present.
Upon temporarily relieving our exhaustion, we headed back out to the baseball field's dusty wilderness and resumed business as usual.
While there are mysteries in the world that still stump scientists, we know one thing for sure, all living things need water. Water is essential to our bodies. 60% of our bodies, 70% of our brains, and 80% of our blood is water. Without it, we could only survive one, maybe two weeks at most.
It is no wonder then that Israelites 'grumbled' against Moses when they settled down in Rephidim (which means "resting places") to find out that there was not enough water to go around. "Give us water to drink." Water is all they needed. Yes, the pillar of fire and the cloud of smoke had just guided them; yes, they had just had their bellies filled with quail and manna from heaven; and yes, they knew that even though the waters at Marah were bitter, they were made sweet by the wood Moses threw into it. But now they found themselves in a part of the wilderness where the wells were almost, if not entirely, dry. The expectations of the people were bitterly disappointed. The myth of security in Egypt was more appealing than the aimless leadership from Moses.
Before we criticize our ancestors, we must remember that they did not have gallons of water available at their convenience or disposal, unlike us. Their concerns, their 'grumblings,' were entirely legitimate. As we discussed, water is essential to survival, rather than a mere convenience or luxury. So, why wouldn't the Israelites begin to long for the days when at least they had steady access to food and water, even if this was within the context of forced labor? This situation must have been unfathomably desperate; they must have entered so deep into the wilderness of despair that they would have sacrificed their freedom for water.
Thanks be to God, that even though the people grumbled against Moses and God, God does what God does best, which is to remain faithful to God’s people. In their state of fear and terror, the Israelites were not afraid to call out to their leaders and bluntly ask, “In this journey, in this wilderness where we find ourselves: where is God in the midst of this?” Although the people did not ask to leave Egypt, they seemed to have forgotten that this was not Moses' idea, either. Instead, it was God who led the people out of the false-security Egypt offered and into the wilderness to discover again who God promised them to be. This movement out of the pharaoh's death grip does not mean that God inflicted this wilderness upon them to 'teach' them a lesson. No: instead, God listened to their cries, in humility liberated them, and in hope, led them to their true identity--God's chosen nation. God sustains them along the way with manna from heaven and water from rocks. Notably, sustenance came not by remaining where they were, but by moving toward the next place toward the direction of God's promise.
Moses went with the elders to Sinai, a place of holiness, and brought back a foretaste of that which was to come. In this narrative, sustaining water came from the mountain where God's people would receive that which sustains their spiritual selves: the Torah, the Law. On this mountain, the people ate and drank both physical and spiritual food in God's presence.
I think it is safe to say that we can identify with the congregation at Rephidim, recalling the times in our own lives when fear and doubt have gripped us. As hard as it may be to admit, I think some of us, if not all of us, have 'quarreled' against God, and at least with those who we call our leaders. We are not that much different from our wandering brothers and sisters. We, too, have had our moments where instead of embracing our faith, we succumb to our fears, and instead of trusting, we begin to grow suspicious. Like the Israelites, we cannot ignore the horror of our thirsts; it is difficult to deter ourselves from our preference for our own 'Egypt' of death, darkness, and despair in the wilderness of life when this bondage at least represents security and familiarity.
In some seasons, we can see God's face and know that God goes with us: in the same way, we go through seasons when our entire being aches for but one drop of water. Why, then, do we test the Holy One? Because we know that if God is who God says God is, God can most definitely handle us in our entirety, which includes both our times of strong faith AND our legitimate doubts.
Friends, if there is but one theme to hold onto during this repetitive rendition of the exodus story, it is this: God cares deeply for each of us and helps move us from places of fear and doubt to places of trust. In today's story, it strikes me [pun intended] that God chooses to bring water—and the life it symbolizes and will impart—out of something that appears to be lifeless. If only they could have seen what we see now that a promise is reiterated in this act, the security that God intends to bring the people life, not death, as they suspect.
Whether it is out of Egypt and out of the wilderness, out of depression and out of a failed marriage, out of sadness and out of the death of a loved one, God has, God is, and God will find ways to make life flow in unexpected ways. It will require a certain amount of trust, a willingness to put faith in a God who seems not to do things in a typical way.
Let us no longer worry that our thirst is too much for God. Friends, let us put aside our concern that God will not provide for us. Let us reorient our lives so that our contentment comes not from the days of the past, but emerges from the hope of the future. The good news in all of this, friends, is that God is in the midst of our wilderness. God stands amid our lives, creating beauty that looks scorched and barren and fills our oases with water that will never leave us thirsting for more.
Teresa of Avila once said, “Let nothing disturb you, nothing dismay you: All things are passing, God never changes. Patient endurance attains all things. God alone suffices.”
Church, from which pools do we drink? For which water do you thirst?
May you often return to the water coolers of life, always reminded of the sufficient Living Water God offers to us.
Amen.
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