When the Well Runs Dry; Psalm 63:1-8; Luke 13:1-9; Rev. Dr. Rhonda Blevins; March 23, 2025
When the Well Runs Dry
Psalm 63:1-8; Luke 13:1-9
Rev. Dr. Rhonda Blevins
March 23, 2025
O God, you are my God; I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your steadfast love is better than life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
I will lift up my hands and call on your name.
My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast,
and my mouth praises you with joyful lips
when I think of you on my bed
and meditate on you in the watches of the night,
for you have been my help,
and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.
______
At that very time there were some present who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood
Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, “Do you think that because these
Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you,
but unless you repent you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when
the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the
other people living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you, but unless you repent you will all perish just as
they did.”
Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came looking
for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the man working the vineyard, ‘See here! For
three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why
should it be wasting the soil?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around
it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good, but if not, you can cut it
down.’”
______
Some of you know that I spent the past week with my family on spring break in East
Tennessee, in my hometown outside of Knoxville, close to the Smoky Mountain National
Park. I officiated a beloved cousin’s wedding last Sunday, then we spent the rest of the time
hanging out with family and friends and playing tourist in Knoxville, Gatlinburg, and Pigeon
Forge.
My husband and oldest son flew home on Tuesday. Then on Wednesday, my youngest son
and I went hiking with my first cousin and his son (the newlywed!) A first real hike in the
mountains for my eleven-year-old, we did a moderate trail, one mile up to a waterfall, and a
mile back to the car. My son thoroughly enjoyed it—we all did! So we decided to do another
short, easy hike nearby, despite the fact that we were out of water and were all a little
thirsty.
Now, I grew up in this area—I thought I knew everything about it. But as I drove up a fairly
deserted gravel road to get to the trailhead, my cousin yelled, “Stop the car!” I didn’t know
why . . . there were no cars for miles . . . no deer on the road . . . no fallen rocks to avoid.
Nevertheless, my cousin grabbed an empty water bottle, got out of the car saying, “This is
fresh spring water! You’re gonna want to drink this!” All I saw was what looked like a rusty
metal pipe with water running out of it. He went straight to it, as his son informed me, “A
lot of locals fill up their water bottles here.” My youngest son asked me, “Mom, can I drink
this water?” As I looked at my cousin and his son eagerly enjoying the fresh spring water, I
said hesitantly, “I guess so?” When my cousin got back in the car, I informed him that if my
son ended up with dysentery, that I would be sending the medical bills his way. My son
took a couple of sips and said, “This is the best water ever!” So I reluctantly joined in. He
was right. Best water ever. That was Wednesday, and no dysentery yet. We might just be in
the clear.
It’s interesting to me, that despite growing up in that area, and hiking those trails many
times back in the day, I never knew that spring existed. I’ve passed right by it dozens of
times, completely unaware that the “best water ever” was right there, freely available, and
so very refreshing.
It’s like the spiritual life. The very river of life—the eternal spring of God’s love—is always
“right there, freely available” at all times to us. But we pass right by unaware, ignorant of its
goodness and life-giving refreshment. Then we end up sometimes in life tired, weary,
overheated, exhausted, dry, parched . . .
The Psalmist captures this all-too-common experience so beautifully in Psalm 63:1
O God, you are my God; I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
Have you ever felt like the Psalmist? Living your life as if you are “in a dry and weary land
where there is no water?”
The world has a way of making us feel that way. There are so many little sayings we throw
around that indicate this ubiquitous human experience:
“One step forward, two steps back.”
“Can’t win for losing.”
“Too little, too late.”
“Beating my head against the wall.”
“Fighting a losing battle.”
“Swimming against the tide.”
“Running in circles.”
“Rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.”
I could go on! There are so many maxims about how difficult, how challenging life can be
sometimes. And too often, it’s because we’re looking to satisfy the deep longing of our souls
with things of this earth that will never satisfy. Oh, to be more like the Psalmist, who
remembered the source of that which can truly satisfy!
O God, you are my God; I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
Unlike the Psalmist, however, we too often turn to the things of this world to satisfy the
deep longing of our souls—we turn to wells that dry up—sources of happiness that are
fleeting. Things like money, success, popularity, sex, possessions. We lean on our
relationships and our reputations and our routines and things that give us an illusion of
security. Then something happens that challenges our sense of security or our illusion of
invincibility, and suddenly, we realize that all the things we’ve been leaning on—that
nothing is permanent. That realization can hit us like a ton of bricks, can’t it?
In the Gospel lesson today, Jesus tells a quite literal story about folks being hit by “a ton of
bricks.”
So one day when Jesus was teaching the masses, some of the people informed Jesus about
recent news. (Jesus had apparently not read the New York Times that particular morning.)
Pontius Pilate (the Roman official who will one day condemn Jesus to death) had killed
some individuals from Galilee (the area where Jesus was from). Not only that, Pilate mixed
the blood of those whom he killed with the animals they brought to the Temple to sacrifice.
Now, if killing these innocent Jews wasn’t enough, the mixing of human blood with
sacrifices would have been deeply offensive and sacrilegious to observant Jews of the time.
The people reporting this disturbing news story to Jesus apparently interpreted the
situation, assuming that the Galileans Pilate had slaughtered “had it coming” to them. Kind
of a “bad things happen to bad people” interpretation. What some people these days call
“karma.”
Jesus isn’t having it. So he reminds them of another, perhaps less recent, news story about
18 individuals who got hit by a ton of bricks when the Tower of Siloam fell on them.
Then Jesus proceeds to turn the whole notion of karma on its head—this idea that good
things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. He begins to tell a
parable . . . a story to help his followers begin to understand that God’s ways are not our
ways. I want to read the parable to you once again, and as I read it this time, I want you to
think about how these three “characters” are represented in the story: God, us (humans),
the world’s sense of justice:
“A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came looking for fruit on it and found
none. So he said to the man working the vineyard, ‘See here! For three years I have come
looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the
soil?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on
it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good, but if not, you can cut it down.’”
Who represents God in the story? The patient and merciful gardener, ever wanting
to redeem the unfruitful fig tree.
Who represents us humans in the story? The fig tree. We can assume other fig trees
in the vineyard are fruitless, but not this one fig tree. This fig tree is fruitless.
Who represents the world and its sense of karmic justice? The vineyard owner,
ready to cut down the fruitless tree?
You see, when we turn to the things of this world to satisfy the deep longing of our souls,
the fact of the matter is that these wells eventually dry up. There’s no staying power with
most of what we look to in the world to satisfy us. Not only that, we become like the
fruitless fig tree, putting out into the world nothing more that the vacuous and unfulfilling
stuff we’re filling up on.
That stuff can cut us off and chop us down in the blink of an eye. The world thinks nothing
of it. Karma, dude. The world is ever ready, eager even, to exact its sense of poetic justice on
anyone and everyone. It says, “I’m happy to cut you down if it means a leg up for me.”
God’s economy maintains a different kind of justice. God’s system of justice gives the
fruitless tree another year, more tending, a bit of fertilizer, a little more care, a lot more
compassion. “Not yet,” says the loving Gardener. “I’m not done with this one just yet.”
And maybe that’s been you, if you’ve ever felt like you’ve been given a second chance.
Maybe you survived the accident or the diagnosis. Maybe you got through that thing you
thought would kill you . . . that setback or loss or tragedy. And yet, here you are. For some
reason God looked at you, and lovingly said, “Not yet. I’m not done with this one just yet.”
It’s possible God has some special reason for saying “not yet” about you. I don’t know. What
I do know is that God didn’t say “not yet” about you for you to be a part of any system eager
to cut down others so that you can get a leg up. There’s a whole branch of Christianity that
just doesn’t get this. They’re so ready to cut down anyone that isn’t as American or as white
or as straight or as (fill in the blank) as them. This is the great heresy of contemporary
American Christianity.
God didn’t say “not yet” about me so that I can prop up a system eager to cut others down
so I can get a leg up. God didn’t say “not yet” about you so that you can prop up a system
eager to cut others down so you can get a leg up.
When we drink from the fountain of God’s mercy, we become eager to share that mercy and
its source with the world!
So friends, if your well feels dry, come and drink from the water of life! The water of God’s
mercy and compassion. Then point others to the source.
And know this: it’s the “best water ever”!