Water from the Rock

Scripture Lessons: John 4: 5-42 and Exodus 17: 1-7 Sermon title: Water from the Rock Preached on 3/19/17 I can say, especially based on these two Scripture Lessons that we’ve just read, that the Bible has more relevance for us in this 21st Century than any other book. Now, of course, you all would agree with me on this point. If you didn’t agree that Scripture had tremendous relevance than you probably wouldn’t be here this morning, but I am struck especially by these passages and the way in which they speak to issues that we are dealing with every day. Now the details are different. It’s possible to get hung up on the practicalities of these passages – these passages are obviously ancient. “If these people were thirsty, why didn’t they just buy some bottled water” we might well ask, but let’s get past the details, for while we might not know we depend on naturally occurring springs for our water today, can’t you relate to Moses, who in trying to lead the people is nearly driven mad by their constant complaining? Or while this scenario of going down to an ancient well for water seems distant and removed from our modern lives, are many not still threatened by the social ostracizing that this Samaritan woman fell victim to? “It was about noon,” the Gospel of John tell us, and why does John’s Gospel tell us the time? It’s not often that time is mentioned in Scripture. I don’t know how uncommon it is to mention the time in Scripture, but time isn’t mentioned much, so when it is we must stop and pay attention. Why then would the Gospel of John tell us that “Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well [and] It was about noon”? Because by noon, all the other women had long ago come and gone from this well. All the other women went down to the well when the sun was low on the horizon, the air was cool, and they began their day together by fetching water, and while they did they joined in discussing whose husband snored and whose child had a nightmare, and “your mother isn’t doing very well, is she?” and “when will your son be coming home from the city?” These conversations happened in the morning. All the women gathered there in the morning. But “Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon,” and “A Samaritan woman came to draw water.” Why did she go to the well at noon? Because it was better for her to go to the well when she knew that no one else would be there. Now most people in our culture today don’t know much about fetching water from a well, but the Bible is still relevant. You know that the Bible is relevant, because as much has changed, you still know what this woman was feeling. Maybe you were 14, and it was better for you to go to the swimming pool when you knew that no one else would be there. Maybe you spent the night some place you wish you hadn’t, and you snuck back home while it was still dark, because you knew no one would see you. Or better yet, maybe you sat by yourself in the school cafeteria, because they had seen you, and now no one wanted to be seen with you. So, you just got used to eating by yourself. You got used to being alone. You got used to not needing them or their acceptance that you were never going to get anyway. But then he showed up. “Give me a drink,” he says, and you do it, maybe just because you’d gotten into the bad habit of always doing what men ask you to do, only then it strikes you how strange he seems and so you ask, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” Living water. That’s what he has. That’s who he is. That’s what he is offering you and me today just as he’s been offering it for the last 2,000 years. But you know what we do? We keep going back to broken cisterns. Desperate for affirmation, we go looking for it in all the wrong places. He invites us to the Promised Land, but you know what – we’re too busy looking at our phones and listening to what they say about us, to notice him standing there showing us the way. They. Do you know who I’m talking about when I say “they?” When I was a child I told my Mom, “You know what they say Mom, mouth wash is proven to fight plaque and gingivitis better than brushing alone.” My Mom responded: “Just who is they, Joe?” They are the four out of five dentists who approve of your toothpaste. They are the scale and its numbers – the diet plan and the points. They are the likes that you get on the picture, and the compliments you receive or don’t receive for the outfit. “They” are the ones who told this Samaritan woman to go to the well at noon – and she listened. “They” are the crowd who called for Jesus’ crucifixion – and Pilate gave in. “They” are the people who quarreled with Moses, and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” And “they” will drive you crazy – so don’t let them into the sanctuary of your home, don’t keep your phone next to your bed to see what they say. Don’t let them rank you according to likes and followers and views. And you better not ever let them into this church because they have no jurisdiction here – this is God’s house and you would be better off to hear what he say to say about you, as opposed to they. Because they can’t tell you how good you are. Or how beautiful. Give them up - because it’s your creator who knows – and I tell you every Sunday the same exact thing – or last week Hattie Hedrick told you and she’ll tell you again today: “Remember who you are, for you are God’s own,” and that matters because we live in the world where people are always trying to tell us. People are always complaining about us and judging us. Telling us what we can and can’t do. And these days it not just people. Last Wednesday Anna Grace Taylor invited me to ask her Magic 8 Ball a question, and so I asked, “am I a good dancer,” and the magic 8 ball said, “Very doubtful.” It’s just like the well, that place where everyone was looking and judging, and one woman was so worn down by it she started going there at noon so she wouldn’t have to hear it anymore. But if you want to really live, if you know what she was feeling and you’re tired of it – if you want to have the living water – you’ll stop listening to them, and you’ll start listening to him. Give up the distraction of it. Don’t let their voice into your house, but to do that you might have to get rid of your phone. I like cell phones, but I don’t like them too. I don’t like all the comparing and all the ranking. I don’t like hearing from “they” day in and day out. I called Karen Phillips this week on her cell phone. She didn’t pick up and the message says: “This is Karen, and I wasn’t able to pick up the phone because I’m probably still digging through my purse trying to find it. Or, I left it somewhere. Or, more likely, it turned itself off again. Regardless, leave a message and I’ll call you back.” Isn’t that the best? Doesn’t that sound like the way to be. To be free – to be free from voices who want to define us, categorize us, rank us. To be free from all the criticism and hopelessness that “they” heap upon us – so that we can finally hear his voice telling us the truth. The truth that is like water to the thirsty, like an ever-flowing stream. The truth that washes away sin, doubt, and hopelessness – this water that will spring even from a rock in the desert. Speaking of that rock, the great difference between Moses and us, is that when the people quarreled with him saying “Give us water to drink” and “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?”, rather than be brought low by these harsh words or capitulate to them, Moses cried out to the Lord. The Lord responded: “Strike the rock, and water will come out of it.” The Bible has much to say to us. It’s as relevant today as it ever was, for still “they” tell us what is possible. Still they try to tell us who we are. Still their voices bring us down – but listen, still he offers us the living water. Still water streams from rocks. Still only he can tell us who we are. Amen.