THE LAST RIVER MILE

Big Spring feeds the Current River in the southcentral Missouri Ozark hills. It is the largest spring in the state of Missouri and one of the largest in all of North America. It churns out a staggering 290 million gallons of water a day, bursting forth out of an 80-foot deep hole in the ground. I was twelve years old when I first set eyes on it. (I am 73 now.) Six decades later I still have trouble finding the words to express my experience that day. The closest I can come is this – wonder.

I use an online daily devotional source which I would recommend highly – Lectio 365. Wednesday’s post focused on John 4:4-42. This section of the Bible tells of an encounter between Jesus of Nazareth and a woman in the region known as Samaria. It happens at a well. Wells were central to life and community in that arid region of the world. In the encounter, Jesus asks for a drink from the well. He and the woman go back and forth in conversation for a bit, about the well – the work required to get water from the well, and the fact that thirst and need will continue to necessitate water from the well. At one point Jesus shifts the water image from a well to a spring. He talks of water gushing forth continually, from no human effort. He says that those who drink from this spring will never thirst. Pulling from this well/spring imagery, the devotion leader for Lectio 365 asked a powerful question – In your relationship with God, does it feel more like digging a well to reach hidden reserves or like drinking deep from a bubbling spring?

I have to admit that much of my faith life feels like well-digging. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Contemplative prayer, deep Bible study, serving in the name of Jesus as best I can, trying to stand with those who are the least, the last, and the lost. It’s all good, but a lot of it feels like my effort, much as well-digging is human effort to access a water source. Sometimes I long to just be happily flooded by a surging spring; where the only effort I can offer is wonder.

Sixty-one years ago, Big Spring was the destination of a 90-mile canoe float on the Current River for about fifteen campers and three counselors from a YMCA summer camp. We were to camp overnight at Big Spring State Park, then we would be picked up the next morning, along with our gear and the canoes. After supper a few of us went to the Spring itself. Too exhausted from the trip, we didn’t have much more energy than to sit on the rock formations just above where the water surges out of the ground. We just sat and looked at the immensity of what was happening at our feet. Thinking about the staggering geological and physical processes that made this ongoing power happen. Listening to this stunning natural sound that nothing (not even AI!) can recreate. Smelling the smell that only water from the depths of the earth can create. Mesmerized by the thundering crystal image of water in endless flow. A small bunch of junior high and high school boys, saying not a word; unable and having no desire to do so. Minutes went by, then what seemed like hours. The sun went down, but it didn’t matter. Finally someone said we had to get back to camp to get ready to be picked up the next morning.

We were lost in wonder, much like the woman at the well became lost in wonder before the spring of life that was/is Jesus. In an old hymn, “Love Diving, All Love Excelling,” the very last line is, “…lost in wonder, love, and praise.” It’s that. The take-your-breath-away wonder of a surging spring. I long for more of that. Maybe we all do.

So is your life more like digging a well or like drinking deep at a bubbling spring?

I’ll see you around the next bend in the river.