Some years ago I had occasion to wander at length in the deserts and canyons of Arizona. For the better part of five years I traversed over mountains, through streams, and under whatever conditions mother nature saw fit to let fall upon me. Cooking on a primitive fire made from available resources, seeking a new shelter each night, and drinking from whatever water could be found, I became dependent on my knowledge of the landscape as much as I was dependent on the land itself.

After navigating some areas time and again, there are canyons and mesas that feel as familiar to me as the streets of my town. I know the turn of the riverbed as the rock walls press in around deep pools and then release into wide banks. I know the safe way over a steep mesa and the danger of taking the wrong route and being caught on the cliffs. I know where the water runs continually and where it can be found only after a good rain. The landscape of these places is etched so permanently in my mind that even in darkness I can find my way to water, safety, and shelter. In the harsh reality of the desert such an internal map becomes a necessity.

All that being said, there have been many times I have been caught unprepared for nightfall, extreme weather, or lack of water. I have taken wrong turns and ended up in unfamiliar and unforgiving places with barbed plants that hedge up the way, steep climbs that threaten to never end, and dry creek beds that seem to mock my desperate thirst. It was precisely on one of these days, when my need for water crossed the line into the dangerous, that the following scripture pressed itself upon my mind:

“But he that drinketh of this water shall never thirst” (John 4:14)

Later, as I sat by a stream of cool, replenishing, cleansing water and had my fill, I began to ponder on the meaning of that verse. Even if I drank until my belly could hold no more I would eventually thirst again. Similarly, even if I were to feast, even gorge, upon the words of Christ I would eventually hunger and thirst again for the teachings of the Savior. In fact, to do so is a virtue:

“Blessed are they which hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled” (Matthew 5:6)

But for how long? Won’t we, shouldn’t we, hunger and thirst again? Surely there will be days my soul will be parched despite my previous efforts to drink deeply the living waters of peace. The meaning that came to me that day (which meaning, I freely admit, is only one of many and came as a personal, not definitive answer) is described in this journal entry:

“Once we have found the source of replenishment we can always know how or where to find it again. Similarly, once I have visited a spring or creek I can memorize the landmarks in order to find it again. It is the same with the source of peace. Once I have understood how to receive peace I can go to those same still waters in the time that I need them. The trick for me is to carve that path so many times, to make my way to the still waters so often and from so many directions, that I can find it by heart, even in the darkness. In this way I need never thirst again, or, at least, not thirst without hope of restoration.”

At times I have wandered far from life-giving waters and the journey back has been long and hard, but knowing that I have been there before gives me hope that I can find my way again.  Sometimes the living water seems ever present, flowing freely and I begin to forget what it is to be without it, how much I need it. In these times mine is the challenge to simply be still long enough to drink.

What does it mean to you to ‘never thirst’? What are the things that lead you to still waters in your life?

Related posts:

  1. Going For Goals (without the annoying drone of the vuvuzela)
  2. Origin of the species
  3. Life: “There’s wonderful for you.”


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