H. Michael Brewer
Crescent Springs Presbyterian
13 August 2006
DEEP WATERS
Ezekiel 47:1-12
Picture Ezekiel’s vision. Picture a stream of water flowing from the Temple, a river symbolizing the life-
giving love of God, the out-pouring of God’s Spirit, the flow of grace. Notice this river begins with God. It flows
from the Temple, the house of God, because it all begins with God. Everything we hope for, everything we
believe in, everything we’re counting on—it all begins with God.
God makes the first move. God is the first to say, Hi, let’s get acquainted. God is the first to extend a hand
of friendship. God is always the first to love, and our love is a response.
Here’s how John puts it: “This is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son…” (I
John 4:9-10)
And here’s how Paul says it: “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for
us.” (Romans 5:8)
Whether we have been Christians for fifty years or five minutes, even if we’re still making up our minds on
this whole Christian thing, we need to know that our journey begins with God’s passionate love for us. We
don’t have to put our best foot forward or wear a happy face or hide our doubts or disguise our faults. Before
you ever gave God a thought, before you got your life straightened out, before you confessed your faith, before
you were baptized, before you were born—God had already fallen in love with you.
The prophet Isaiah has such a vivid image of that love. Speaking through Isaiah, God says, “Human love
waxes and wanes. Even a mother, for instance, might forget her own baby, but I will never forget you. Just to
make sure, I have carved you on my palms so that you are always before my eyes.” (Isaiah 49)
Think about that. God has tattoos, and you know what they say? They say: GOD LOVES— and then you
can fill in your own name.
So it all starts there with the startling, heart-healing, laugh-out-loud discovery of God’s love for you and
me. You know that song we sing? “Lord, you are more precious than diamonds…” God sings that song to you.
Notice another thing about this river from Ezekiel’s vision. The farther it flows, the broader and deeper it
becomes. Ankle deep at first, then a thousand yards downstream up to the knees, then waist high, and finally
so deep and broad that no one could cross from one side to the other.
Does that mean the longer we are Christians, the more God loves us? How could God love us any more?
You can’t add to infinity. But we can love God more deeply. And we can serve God more faithfully. And we can
understand God more clearly. Like that deepening river, God calls us to an ever-deepening relationship.
I was at a pastor’s conference last month. The leaders clustered us in small groups in which we worked
for the whole week. After praying together and sharing stories of church struggles and troubled marriages, we
grew close. But on the shuttle ride back to the airport at the end of the week, a woman in my group said to me,
“You know we’re not really going to keep in touch. We’ll swap a few emails, and then we’ll get busy. If we
bump into each other at a conference next year, we’ll be lucky to remember names.”
Relationships are not self-sustaining. Think of the friends with whom you used to be close, people you’ve
drifted away from, not because anything happened, but because of what didn’t happen—the phones calls, the
letters, the emails, the visits, the conversations. Relationships are like riding a bicycle. Sometimes you can
coast, but now and again you’ve got to put in some effort or the ride is over.
The same is true of our friendship with God. If you’d rather call this faith or discipleship or spirituality, that’
s fine with me. Whatever you call this dimension of your life, it’s not static. It’s not finished. It’s not like a
sculpture you can create and put on display. It’s more like a flower garden that always needs attention,
rewarding but never finished.
Maybe that’s too much trouble. Maybe you’d like to dam that river to a manageable trickle. Here’s how you
do that. Leave your Bible on the shelf. Be too busy to get involved in God’s business. Pray only in
emergencies. Sleep in three Sundays a month. Pretty soon you’ll be able to cross that river without getting
your feet wet. If we learn anything from spiritual teachers through the centuries, it is this: You can’t ignore God
and still remain close to God.
In a recent interview, an aging and ailing Billy Graham said, “My health isn’t good and I miss being able to
get out and around, but I read my Bible several hours every day and I’m so glad I have this opportunity to
deepen my relationship with God.”
How about that? At age 87, Billy is still deepening his friendship with God. I hope you and I are doing the
same, because the river keeps on running and if our relationship with God isn’t deepening, it’s probably
diminishing.
Notice one more thing in Ezekiel’s wonderful vision. Wherever this river flows, it brings life, healing, and
growth. The parched desert blossoms. Orchards spring up on the river banks, evergreen fruit trees that bear
year-round and whose leaves have the power to heal. When the river flows into the Dead Sea and it becomes
the Live Sea with swarms of fish leaping in sweet, clear water. This river of God’s loving presence brings the
desert to bloom and heals the poison sea. This is the blessing for those who embrace God, those who fling
themselves into that river—the gift of hope sprung from despair, beauty from desolation, life out of death.
Maybe I’d better be careful. Back in the late 1970’s a minister was sued for making extravagant claims
about God’s goodness. On reflection, one church member felt God hadn’t come through with the appropriate
blessings as promised and brought suit to recover his offerings to the church. So let’s not oversell.
Discipleship is no rabbit’s foot, no vaccination against misfortune. In the mystery of God’s providence, there is
yet suffering among the faithful and loss and grief.
Even so, I stand with the psalmist who sings, “You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken
off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.”
(from Psalm 30) I take my stand with those of you who this morning could bear witness of health restored,
griefs healed, marriages renewed, and challenges surmounted. I’ve seen what God can do. I trust what God
is doing. So sue me. Where that river flows, there is hope, there is healing, and there is grace abounding for
every need.
I remember serving as a counselor at Cedar Ridge Camp quite some time ago, and that summer one of
the activities was tubing down a slow, meandering river. They loaded campers and counselors into vans,
drove us to river, and we all jumped in with our tubes—all but one boy who didn’t like the looks of the water.
Maybe he wondered what lurked under the surface. Maybe he feared an errant stick might puncture his tube
and dump into the four-foot depths. The rest of splashed and called and cajoled, but he refused to join us.
Finally, the rest of floated away and he rode back to camp in the van.
That’s been years and years ago, but I still feel sorry for that boy. There is joy in the river that can never be
experienced by those who stand on the bank. There is joy in the river that can only be known by those who
fling themselves into the water.
Soli Deo Gloria!