Rattle.
“There are dry bones at the well living water. There are calloused hands that stain innocence.
Like Beasts on four hands, panting for water. Eyes sunken into your skull, death on your lips, cavity seeded into your bones.
At the well of living water there is striving. The sound of muscles stretching and tearing. Doctors performing surgery, knotting up each of your fibers .
There is a silent war. There is enmity. There are hearts sculpted out of granite. At the well of living water there is a graveyard. Bodies with hands that can only supply so much.
You’ve got dry bones at the well of living water… how could it be?
If only you stood still. Child, there is a vessel at the well of living water.”
When these words were written in my prayer journal, my hands were shaking. And typing these words at this moment… my heart is racing and my hands are shaking once more. I love God with all my heart. He is my Lord and Savior and I am afraid of writing blasphemy. Saying that there is a graveyard beside the well of living water feels too close to discrediting what the well CAN and HAS done. Go to the well of living water that is Jesus and you will find eternal life. So why did I feel the prompting to write of there being a graveyard beside it?
In the season I felt like journaling these words, I was in a deep wrestle with the Lord. I had my expectations of what God was going to do with my full yes and surrender. What I didn’t expect was a different steering in my calling and financial debt. I was deeply in love with the ministry I was setting up and walking away from it brought heavy grief into the picture.
On a Sunday in August, at the beginning of my support-raising season, I sat in a higher row than usual in my church. I remember looking over the “bowl,” at the masses of people, and hearing the new sermon series, “Everybody Can.” We had begun launching the statement “Everybody Can: know God, find freedom, discover purpose, and make a difference.” I wish to say this sermon series was gasoline to my fire but it felt like more of a waterfall. I was face to face with so many people who didn’t personally know God, who didn’t have freedom, who didn’t have a purpose, and who didn’t feel like they could make a difference. The body of Christ has dormant cells.
During my support raising season, I had the biggest privilege and honor of meeting with all individuals. Looking back, I am in awe of the absolute privilege of ministry it was. I was meeting with individual after individual with the purpose of inviting them to invest in Kingdom work. But beyond that, I was sitting across souls and stories. From people who have walked with the Lord for years to individuals who heard the gospel for the first time. I had the privilege and honor of inviting anyone and everybody for a meal with me with the agenda of the gospel.
In the midst of it all, my heart started breaking. I came to realize I was pastoring dry bones. Souls who have set up residence at the well of living water yet are still walking with dry bones. Souls who hear the name of Jesus on a Sunday morning, but carry shackles Monday-Saturday. After conversation after conversation with beautiful souls who see no purpose in their lives, I was at a loss for words. How do you give life to dry bones?
Writing this is difficult as I can't point fingers. I’ve walked numerous times into the presence of the Lord but disregarded it. I’ve lived many years without true freedom, without a sense of purpose, and suicide plans. Support raising felt more like setting up hospital beds than gathering financial resources. I was a wounded person trying to heal wounded people. I was finding what the Lord had truly called me to, mobilizing dry bones to rattle. To go and dance. To go to the well and to take its water to all ethne (peoples)
I had come to realize mobilization cannot happen without individuals knowing God, finding freedom, believing that they have purpose, and that they can make a difference. There is no mobilization without a deep passion and fire for the spread of God’s glory and fame. If we don’t know God, we won’t burn to see Him be worshipped. If we didn't find freedom, how could we fight for the freedom of others? If we don’t believe we have purpose and that we could make an impact, is there any reason for going to the ends of the earth?
I devoted myself fully to beautiful things, yet my own bones were dry.
I remember looking at my hands in the midst of writing in my journal. There is only so much water you could lap out of your hand. I needed to bathe fully in the well, despite all who might see. I needed to reach for the earthen vessel that is Jesus to truly quench my thirst. My hands could only do so much and it was never asked of me to callous my hands. For it is not of my glory, but His. He did not bear nails in his hands for ours to be calloused from scrounging for purpose, identity, and earthy things. We are orphans no more. We are freed up to callous our hands in the act of ultimate love. We have been freed to grab the hand of the leper, the prostitute, the tax collector, and the pharisee; to walk them to the well to be satisfied.
John 4:5-30 holds the story of the woman at the well. I cannot help but think about how naked she must’ve felt when Jesus looked her in the eyes and told her she had five husbands and that she was committing adultery. This moment makes me think of when St. John Maria Vianney asked a farmer what he did in a church looking at the tabernacle, the man responded, "Nothing, I look at Him, and He looks at me." This is what I picture in that very moment of John 5. She looks at Jesus and Jesus looks at her. In realizing Jesus knew her fully, she began to know him.
Child of God, are your bones dry? Are you weary and heavy burdened? Look at the Lord as He looks at you. In our nakedness, we begin to see our genuine state and incapabilities. Are you striving at the well when all He asked of you is to look to Him? Are you trying to provide for yourself at the well of living water or have you surrendered to Him as your provider and Lord? The well is deep enough to draw from, reach for the earthen vessel at every moment. Cling to it tightly. May the only strain on your hands be from your tight grasp to the hand of Jesus. And when you go, go with Him. May your rattling bones bring awakening and glory to the supplier of the well of living water.