Tag Archives: living water

Landscape of Love 91: Grotto

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Pale blue lady, aqua mantled, kindness gazing out from your alabaster face, carved deep into the rock and our hurting souls. You smile, and the world is changed. Adoring the love on your dappled skin, ripples of reflected grace, the water feels less cold somehow, though we are up to our necks; and the tide is of no concern, merely the sea breathing: in and out, in and out. A caverned womb of healing, where we might be knit together once more, and our stretched sinews feel the call to entwine and relax. We go under and rise again, replenished by the carrier of living water.

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016

Photo from Pixabay

 

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60:Thirsty

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Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon. When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?” John 4:6-7 NIV

 

Noon in the Middle East is fearsomely hot, I imagine, so no wonder Jesus was tired and thirsty especially after a long walk. It’s hard sometimes for us to remember that God incarnate took on board everything that being flesh means. We have so much art that gives our saviour haloes and clean white robes that look fresh from a washing powder advert. We struggle to imagine him dusty, exhausted and longing for a cool draught of water in his humanity.

So thirsty is Jesus, that he foregoes all protocol, not that protocol was exactly something he ever bothered with, and talks to someone female (shock horror) and who is also not a pure virgin or chaste wife (double shock horror) and who is not even (triple shock horror) Jewish. The quadruple shock horror is that she is also a Samaritan, and for a Jew, let alone a Rabbi, to speak to a Samaritan woman, well it is hard to convey just how badly Jesus is breaking the rules here.

When the disciples come back, their jaws pretty much drop to the ground. But Jesus is tired and thirsty and he sees, not only an opportunity to get some much needed water, but a chance to change a life, and through that, many others. In short, he sees that the woman before him is much thirstier than he is.

How long has she sought for the something that will satisfy her? On her fifth serious relationship, this is no youngster, but most likely a middle aged woman with a lot of life experience and a shed load of disappointments behind her. I think she is probably thirsting for a taste of real love, and of integrity. A dose of truth. Probably too, she thirsts to be seen as a person, rather than as an object of either lust or derision. We all know the cruel names given to women who’ve been unlucky in love, or passed around as playthings. We don’t need to say them again here. But we do need to see the way Jesus does. He sees the heart. He sees a genuine seeker, he sees a whole human being in need of a long cool drink of living water. And so the woman at the well, whom history tries to negate by not even bothering to record her name, becomes the first evangelist, and two great thirsts are slaked at Jacob’s Well.

 

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” John 4:13-14 NIV

 

 

©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt

Photo from Pixabay

143: Estuary

143 estuary

Sinking deep, stretching wide, belly fulsome with water, here lies a strange and fertile peace. More comings and goings than ever, a release and a welcome of tides, trading salt for fresh,  Living Water meeting Dead Sea; and yet, here a stillness in the expansive mud flats born at the edges and a freedom in the largeness to be anything and everything, as the oyster catchers burst upwards in a frantic flourish, spooked by movement, a spill of white paint on the canvas of a low horizon. Rainclouds crowding in to gaze at their own reflections in the vast bay, before migrating across the ocean on streams unseen.

A yawning place, opening out for exchange, greeting the foreign, pushing out the excess, learning the difference between empty and full and regretting neither. In and out, to and fro, back and forth, the unforced rhythms of grace are louder and softer here than in any place that was merely river.

©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015

Day 120: Stream

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Rivulets running like ancient roots along the veins of my dabbling feet. Not seeking to dig down but only to flow onwards. Unconcerned by anything but living the dance, how it takes you in the current that moment: sparkling in the sun; washing over a minnow; swirling slow in a shadowed eddy. Never set in stone but eroding it, channelling your way playfully into the rocks of ages, pirouetting on a pebble, jeteeing from a salmon’s mouth, on pointe gazing up to the noonday sun.

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015