Longing

John 7:37-39
Isaiah 55:1-3
Revelation 22:17-21
John 4:5-30

Desert sand rubbed incessantly between calloused sole and rough leather strapped around plodding feet. The woven basket, hot to the touch, pressed prickling pines of reed through the coarse fabric covering her head, poking her scalp, as one hand steadied its perch.

Her baby jostled sleepily, wrapped tightly against her body as sweat rivered down her spine. Her toddler’s bottom heaved decidedly into the sand as the little one’s cries added to the cacophony of livestock and other exhausted children, “Mamaaaa! Dink!!” Had she not already been dehydrated, tears would have filled the mama’s eyes, but like her young shrieking son, exhaustion and weariness culminated in anger.

Visions of waterskins dripping cool liquid stirred inside her.
“Oh, Egypt”, her heart breathed.

Scourging and oppression forgotten, even the deaths of beloved family members and the sight of infant cousins drowning in the Nile faded from her mind. Only the cooling water of deep Egyptian wells filled her vision as frustration surged, quickly pooling into hatred for Yahweh and His leader, Moses.

Death by dehydration loomed as the sun peaked high.

Had it only been three days since she’d danced joyously with the tambourine, following Miriam in victorious worship through the camp? (Exodus 15:20-22)

What a cruel God.

~~

It was her first pilgrimage to Jerusalem as Berekhyah’s wife, but hope-filled visions of a happy marriage following her long-awaited nissuin (wedding) had been obliterated by the months following the consummation of their kiddushin (betrothal). The pack on her back was weighed down with long bamboo poles needed to erect the sukkah once they arrived in Jerusalem. “If we arrive,” she thought dryly.

Her bones ached under her load. Why was Berekhyah riding the animal pulling the other supplies? Why wasn’t he straining under bamboo poles? Did he see her at all? Didn’t he care?

“Aviva,” Berekhyah barked her name, halting their procession. “Water,” he commanded. Tears gathered in her eyes as her broken dreams haunted her. Wasn’t union supposed to bring delight? Why did she feel like a broken cistern, drained of all sustenance?

Berekhyah’s attention for her had quickly waned after the ceremony; their only interaction happened long after dark when he groped for her. He was supposed to be her protector and bring her life as Isaac had for Rebekah. (Genesis 26:8) Instead, marriage felt stifling, like hot air in the desert through which their ancestors had traipsed hundreds of years prior.

Wilderness wanderings.
That was the point of this pilgrimage and this Festival of Booths.

With Berekhyah’s thirst satiated and her bamboo pack once more in place, she plodded on, alone with her thoughts. Girlish laughter filled her mind and Aviva smiled at the memory in spite of the heat and the strain.

How she had loved this pilgrimage as a child!

Laughing with cousins, moving around to various family pots for meals. Sleeping under the wide array of stars and imagining her name as one of the myriads of lights that had been promised to Father Avraham as a descendant. She had been awestruck with wonder at Yahweh’s power and magnificence.

As she grew older and became more aware of the politics surrounding her poverty-stricken fellow Jews living under Roman oppression, she remembered one particular pilgrimage when she dared voice the burning question inside her heart. She’d waited until her brothers and sisters were asleep and only Abba remained by the fire. He was a tender man, gentle in spirit, welcoming Aviva with love, calling her his “Little Spring” as suggested by the meaning of her name.

“If YHWH is so good and powerful, why are we impoverished? Why does Rome rule us?” Abba had listened, but only stirred the fire. “Abba? What if…what if the prophecies about a Messiah aren’t…true?” Her voice trailed at the end. Aviva hung her head, ashamed of her little faith, but yearning to know all the same. 

Abba had left the fire and knelt in front of her, his dark eyes finding hers, “Little Spring, look up.” As she turned her gaze skyward toward the endless sea of stars, Abba’s voice, taut with unspilled tears, prodded, “YHWH gives in abundance. He promised an inheritance and so He has given it. He promised a Messiah, and He will deliver with abundance. But sometimes, we miss His promise even when we are looking right at it.”

“What do you mean, Abba? How am I looking right at it?”

Abba’s grin widened, and his eyes sparkled, “I’m looking at His inheritance right now, in you, and you are seeing it in me. Don’t miss the Promise in front of you, Little Spring.”

~~

“On the last and most important day of the festival, Jesus stood up and cried out,
‘If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink.
The one who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said,
will have streams of living water flow from deep within him.’”
(John 7:37-38)

He who mercifully gave water on the third day of wilderness wanderings.
He who stood up and cried aloud for all to come and freely drink of His Living Water.
He was the same Who laid down His life to pay the death penalty for every sinner.
He was the same Who took up His life again on the third day, extending a broad welcome for all to partake of His resurrection life, allowing it to flood and overflow every broken, grieving, empty, sinful place inside each soul who welcomes Him.

To all who would come,
He offers life in abundance.

Jesus was hoped for, but He didn’t come as expected.
Don’t miss the offer to Feast with Him who stands right in front of you.

“Come, everyone who is thirsty, 
come to the water;
and you without silver,
come, buy, and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without silver and without cost!
Why do you spend silver on what is not food,
and your wages on what does not satisfy?
Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good,
and you will enjoy the choicest of foods. 
Pay attention and come to me;
listen, so that you will live.”
(Isaiah 55:1-3, emphasis mine)