“Come to me and drink.” (Jesus)

I like that. I think I want to. It sounds inviting, as if some deep place within me could be profoundly satisfied. But I wonder what it would look like tomorrow to come and drink? And am I able to pause long enough from all my “doing” to experience it to the fullest (or even a little)?

Perhaps a trial (dare I say, even a tragedy) might help. You know, something that drives me to my knees and causes me to desperately call out to Him. However, I am pretty sure I would still make even that into a continuing pursuit of the “better life.” Consider the following thought from Larry Crabb:

“Because we modern Christians are so conditioned to assume that if we get it right life will work, we may need to take a few steps back, a few big steps, and see the big picture. When tragedy strikes, we so easily say, ‘I wonder what God is teaching me through this trial.’ Listen beneath that sentence to its motivation and you might hear something like this: ‘If I learn my lesson, I’ll be able to get it right the next time so more trials won’t some.’”

Remember the woman I talked about last weekend? The one who was being forced to choose between her family and God? This dear daughter of God is too young in her fledgling faith to even think about asking the question, “I wonder what God is teaching me through this trial.”

She sat at the “negotiating table” with her dad and God – her dad promising tangible and immediate benefits while God promised none of these “better life” options – but He did tell her He was offering her Himself. “Choose Me,” the Lord said, “and you will have direct access to me at any time, in any circumstance.”

Well, she came to Jesus and drank. I am excited to share with you that she chose God – and lost everything – and gained Him! Not the promise of a life that works out but eyes that are no longer blinded by the god of this world.

Someday I will no longer come to God – I’ll be with Him always! Until then, dear Jesus, remind me that nothing else but You is fully satisfying.

Pastor Jim