Care for a Drink?

When I most recently accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior (there have been many times!) I came because my heart was beaten, bloodied, bruised and stabbed at. There was nothing but dust in my love-bucket and it was so corroded and leaky that it could not hold (I could not accept) whatever love was shown to me. My very soul was parched and scratchy. I came to the fountain of Jesus because I was thirsty to the point of spiritual death. I needed a Savior.

At first I only sipped lightly at the fountain of life, really only touching a drop or two to my lips – and the bleeding stopped. Later I took a little swallow and was protected from further stabbings. The barbs and arrows aimed at my heart had lost their sting. Jesus wrapped me in his hedge of protection deflecting most of the attacks and causing the others to fly harmlessly through me. I took a longer drink and the bruises were healed, the corrosion repaired. I had come into a relationship with Christ as my Savior. I was once again able to love and to be loved. My love bucket could once again hold the love of God and the love of those around me. I was saved.

Now, many years later, I start each day at the fountain, filling my love-bucket to the brim until it can hold no more. I splash some on my wife and then head out dripping wet and cool into the scorching hot Saharan world around me. That is the joy of my personal relationship with Jesus. That is the joy of loving God in a sin-filled world.

But there is a difference between that relationship and my growing fellowship with him. If I stop there each day, with a bucket full of living water and keep it all to myself, I am not complete. I am missing out on the really good stuff. I benefit much from the relationship, but miss out on the rest.

What is the rest? The best part of my day is when the stream flows back out — when I get to splash extravagant unconditional Christian love into some cracked dry place — to splash a little heaven into some unheavenly place – to fill someone else's bucket from mine so they can love it forward to someone else — to be to someone else what Christ was to me when I was in a wilderness desert place. That is the joy of loving my neighbor.

And, I have recently discovered, there is more to this story. It doesn't stop here! If I retain control and decide who I am going to love and who I am not, then I miss out again. The more I enslave myself to Christ and accept my master's bidding, the more I am brought to those of His choosing — the ones who are most in need — the ones who are most willing to accept what I have to offer.

As servant to my Lord, as slave to my Master, I am no longer like a wanderer in the desert with a canteen offering a drink to the people I like or the people I want to like me. I am becoming an oasis — a place Jesus can depend on — a place where He can send anyone who is thirsty and rely on me to invite them in and offer them a drink — like any good and faithful servant would do for his master when someone knocks on the door of His house.

The palms are sprouting. The kneeling-rocks near the spring have been placed. The oasis is greening. Come by anytime. The water is sweet. The pleasure is mine.