The thirst here is for nothing in a jug, for something a whole lot more than lemonade. The thirst here is for living water in the parched soul of someone who’s wandering in a desert where there’s nothing more than hot sand.
Does living with plenty dull the sense of our own sin and misery? Are we even aware of our need for a Savior? Of our gratitude for deliverance? Could our material comforts and security be actually diminishing our joy?
When God satisfied Hannah’s desires, she entrusted them back to God. How could someone who prayed in anguish for a child now offer a prayer of praise in giving her son back to the LORD?
Can you remember one of the last times that you allowed yourself to enter into the type of praise that David describes?
My name is Zechariah. Nothing so remarkable there, as thirty Zechariahs before me are recorded in the Scriptures. But Zechariah means “Yahweh remembers,” and that seems remarkable to me, especially after...well, I’ll explain in a minute.
Is there a new perspective, maybe a new encounter, to which God is asking us to be awakened?