H2Okey Dokey

top-brandsMaybe I’ll have a bottled water taste test.

I could blow like $20 on bottles of Dasani, Aquafina, Smart Water, and all the other ones out there, and sample each one, and rank them by preference.

It just seems like with all those options out there I ought to have a favorite.  I mean, what if it turns out the Fiji bottle shape is head and shoulders ahead of Evian’s?  What if Ozarka’s taste blows Voss out of the…ahem…water?

And what if filtered water out of my fridge beats them all?

Wow, there sure are a lot of factors complicating things for a couple hydrogens and an oxygen.  Hmm.

I mean, do I really need to pit different containers of H20 against each other? Honestly, I don’t know exactly what my water taste test would achieve, except to thoroughly hydrate me, which I suppose would be nice.

It’s WATER.  And this bottle may taste a little different then this bottle, but maybe I don’t need a favorite.  Maybe I can just be glad to have it.  Maybe I can just drink it.

When Jesus offered a woman a drink of Living Water he did not worry about what electrolytes were added or if if was condensed from clouds.  He did not offer it in a particular package or at a certain temperature.  In fact, the whole point of his Living Water metaphor was that it was elemental.  It was quintessential.  It was beyond ranking or preference or promotion.

It was as simple as this:   You have thirst.   Here is Water.   Drink.

Ahh yes. That takes me back to the good ole days when water just showed up in drinking fountains or garden hoses.  Water was from the tap or a pitcher in the fridge and that was about all you could say about it.

Remember then?  You have thirst.  Here is water.  Drink.

Yeah, no bottled water taste test for me.  I’ll stuff all the bottles in my fridge and drink one when I’m thirsty.

Call it a spiritual thing, but for me I just want water to be water.

I want my water with a little mystery.  Variety.

Elemental.  Quintessential.

That sounds just H2Okey Dokey to me.


Have a great week,




Maybe it was cold

2cc324866badf687460e130cf765aaf9Maybe it was cold on Mount Horeb.

Maybe Moses didn’t turn aside to see the burning bush.

Maybe he turned aside to warm his hands.


Perhaps he stammered and made excuses

when God unveiled his adventure

because he was cozy and comfortable next to the flame.


His flock?  At least they had thick wool coats to keep them cared for.

The Hebrews?  At least their slavery had them sweating and sheltered.

But Moses?  He was at the Mountain Top, exposed, vulnerable.


Maybe it was cold on Mount Horeb.

Maybe it was a trick God played on a chilly servant.

And once Moses was warm, it was time to go.


These winter nights, as I sit by my hearth

May I be so lulled into obedience

By a flame that will not end.


Have a good week,




When I Don’t Care

From time to time, I’ll be watching the news or surfing the web and I’ll hear about the world’s woes.

And I won’t care. About any of it.

I’ll think, “Let the world shoot itself in the foot. Let horrible people do horrible things. Go ahead, world, bring me your worst. I shall not be moved.”

Ever feel like that? Like a hardened lump of clay? Like there are so many terrible headlines, so many series of unfortunate events, that “keeping the faith” seems impossible?

That’s when the negative stuff begins to blur.  It’s like static. White noise. Too much bad stuff.

Oh no! The Church is failing.  The Economy is failing.  Crops are failing. Marriages are failing.

And you know what?


(Except I do.)

When they come at me too fast and furious — Water-cooler  conversations with co-workers, headlines on the radio, breaking news alerts on my phone — it adds up to a wall of pain that I can hardly imagine, much less imagine overcoming.

It’s overwhelming, so I convince myself I don’t really care. I pull myself out of the equation.  I pretend like I’m a bored observer, watching a tedious movie. I disengage.

There’s a word for this kind of a response.  It’s called APATHY.

APATHY is a coping mechanism.  We make ourselves bored because we’re afraid to interact with our environment.

APATHY sits back and  feels numb. APATHY is the paralysis of faith.

I don’t want to feel that way. Do you?

Certainly, it’s not the kind of living that God has in mind for us.

So how can we fight APATHY? Here’s 3 quick suggestions:

1. Apply filters.  Watch one news report instead of three.  Thin out your twitter feed. Stay connected to the world, but not enmeshed with it.

2. Memorize the Serenity Prayer, and live by it:

           God grant me the serenity 
            to accept the things I cannot change; 
            courage to change the things I can;
            and wisdom to know the difference.

3.  Follow Jesus.  Jesus had the weight of the world resting on his shoulders, and still he managed to keep his focus and passion.  You want to know how to do that? Do what he did.

I may still have the occasional overwhelming day when I say I DON’T CARE, but to be honest,   I think few phrases are more offensive to God.

After all, when God breathed life into us…
there was no intention of us staying lumps of clay.

Have a good week,