Why I Like Jesus’ “Water of Life” Comparison:

“If anyone thirsts,” Jesus says, “let him come to me and drink.”

And with that, he brings all of the truth of water—raindrops and waterfalls, fountains and springs, rivers and brooks, lakes and oceans, sometimes dripping, sometimes drenching, always cleansing, the power of steam, the beauty of snow, the mystery of ice—and applies that truth to Himself.

Covering three quarters of the earth, water is everywhere—and the places it isn’t are barren and wasted. Powerful, delicate, lullabying, destructive, healing—it carves canyons then fills them, laps up on the shores of Ephesus and San Francisco, Barcelona and Calais; collects as dew in backyards and city parks; gives life and carries nutrients, washes the filthy and wakes the sleepy, carries ocean liners and covers trenches.

Water both conceals and reveals: The same explorer who plumbs its depths for the secrets it cloaks reaches down and scoops a handful to wash a muddy artifact and reveal its details.

We do not use it, we only borrow it; for whether through the ground or the sea or the air, in time it will reenter its never-ending cycle, the same drop perhaps visiting us 10 times before we die.

Water is in everything and through everything—it is the stuff of clouds and rainbows and icicles, forever present, forever valuable. Those who view our blue planet from space know—water makes our world what it is.

And because of this, Jesus calls on one of his favorite elements to bear witness to the truth of Himself.

Well done, Jesus.