There’s a restaurant I really enjoy, one of those all-you-can-eat buffets. You walk in and the choice is overwhelming—counters full of food, the smell of things freshly cooked, and the knowledge that you can go back as many times as you like. It’s abundance on display. Imagine, then, leaving all that behind, slipping out of the door, and rooting around in the bins instead. That’s the image Jeremiah gives us here. God has given his people a feast, everything they could need, and they’ve walked away from it to search for scraps.
He puts it another way too. He says they’ve turned from the spring of living water to dig cisterns—water tanks—of their own. In Israel, most rain falls in the winter. People would dig deep holes in the ground, plaster the sides, and try to store water so they had something to drink through the dry summer. But the plaster often cracked, and the water leaked away, or became stagnant and undrinkable. That’s Jeremiah’s point. You can dig and dig, but if the cistern is broken, it will never hold water. And yet the people chose that over the fresh, running spring of life God was offering them.
It’s tempting to think this is all about “other people.” But we know the pattern ourselves. We live in a world that keeps digging broken cisterns. Nations chase wealth while the poor are forgotten. Leaders chase power at the cost of peace. Our culture chooses convenience though creation is left damaged. The church too has sometimes chased image and reputation rather than truth. And in our own lives we know the pull of comfort, approval, control. None of these are evil in themselves, but when they take God’s place, they cannot hold the weight of our lives. They leak.
But there’s another side to this. Some of us here haven’t been chasing idols at all. Some of us have been clinging to God with all the faith we can muster—praying, reading, showing up faithfully week by week—and still it feels dry. Still it feels like the water has disappeared. If that’s you, hear this: thirst itself is not a sign of failure. The psalms are full of faithful people crying out, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” or “My soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you.” To long for God is already to be turned towards him. And the absence you feel does not mean the spring has run dry. It may mean you’re walking through desert country—but even in the desert God provides. Sometimes not in a flood, but in a trickle just enough for the day.
So this word from Jeremiah isn’t a rebuke to the faithful struggler. It’s a reminder that the source is still there. If you feel thirsty, it doesn’t mean you’ve abandoned God. It may mean you’re waiting for his water to reach you in a new way. In those moments, hold on. Keep near the spring. Keep praying, even if the words feel hollow. Keep opening the Scriptures, even if they feel dry. Keep showing up, even when it feels routine. Because the living water hasn’t stopped flowing, and one day you will taste it again.
And in the meantime, that’s why we need each other. When one of us feels dry, another can help carry us. When one feels abandoned, another can remind us that God is still faithful. The church is meant to be a community gathered around the spring, taking turns holding one another there until the water is felt again.
That’s what we are called to here at St Margaret’s. Not to measure ourselves by numbers, or money, or reputation, but by faithfulness to Christ. To offer our town not a cracked cistern but living water—welcome, hospitality, a vision of life rooted in God’s abundance, not in the leaking promises of the world.
Jeremiah’s words are sharp, yes, but they are also tender. They remind us that we don’t need to live thirsty. And if you feel thirsty right now, hold on. Don’t give up. The spring is flowing—sometimes hidden, sometimes slow—but it is there, and it never runs dry.
Amen.
Further Study
Reading
Jeremiah 2:4–13
John 4:4–14
Ponder
Reflect on a time when you placed your hope in something that later left you feeling empty or disappointed. How did that experience shape your view of what truly satisfies?
Where do you notice “broken cisterns” in today’s world—things that promise life but don’t deliver?
When have you experienced God’s “living water” in a way that refreshed or sustained you, even in a difficult season?
Scripture Exploration
In Jeremiah 2:13, what does the contrast between “broken cisterns” and the “spring of living water” reveal about God’s character?
How does Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman in John 4 expand the theme of living water?
What does the image of a leaking cistern teach us about misplaced trust, and how might this apply to both individuals and communities?
Personal Reflection
What theological principles about God’s faithfulness and human tendency to wander can be drawn from Jeremiah’s rebuke?
How do the experiences of thirst and longing in Scripture (e.g., Psalms, John 7:37–39) resonate with seasons of dryness in your own spiritual journey?
How might recognising your own “thirst” be less a sign of weakness and more a sign of honest faith?
Personal Application
What practical steps can you take this week to turn from “broken cisterns” and draw near again to the spring of living water?
Identify one area of your life where you’ve been relying on something other than God for security or identity. What would it mean to bring that to him in prayer?
How can your church community embody the promise of living water—creating spaces of refreshment, honesty, and hope for those who feel dry or forgotten?
Choose one way to encourage or support someone who may be feeling spiritually abandoned, reminding them that the spring is still flowing.
0 Comments