Gifts of Faith: Thirst

2026-18
sermon preached at Church of the Good Shepherd, Federal Way, WA
www.goodshepherdfw.org
by the Rev. Josh Hosler, Rector

The Third Sunday in Lent, March 8, 2026

Exodus 17:1-7 ; Psalm 95 ; Romans 5:1-11 ; John 4:5-42

When I began imagining this year’s sermons for Lent, I noticed a pattern in the gospel readings for each Sunday. From the curious Nicodemus to the thirsty woman at the well to the blind man seeking clarity to two grieving sisters finding a surprising source of hope … this looked to me like a pattern of gifts from God, gifts that build on each other as we mature.

Curiosity leads to thirst, and thirst leads to clarity, and clarity leads to hope.

That far in advance, I was just looking at the gospel readings. It probably would have been a good idea to look also at the sequence of readings from Paul’s Letter to the Romans. If I had, I’d have noticed a similar cadence in today’s reading: “Suffering leads to endurance, and endurance leads to character, and character leads to hope … and hope does not disappoint us.”

Hey, why didn’t I preach on that sequence instead? Because I didn’t plan far enough ahead. But I do think the one I came up with myself lines up pretty well.

Even as we suffer, can we maintain our curiosity?

Even when we must endure, can we develop a thirst for what endurance is teaching us?

And as we develop stronger character, might this demonstrate to others a clarity of purpose?

Both sequences lead to hope—hope that does not disappoint us, because even when we’re not feeling that hope, the hope of others can help carry us through.

Well, today is the day I’ve been thinking of as “Thirst Sunday.” We have thirsty Hebrews in the wilderness who are ready to mutiny against Moses because he didn’t plan for every single eventuality before the Red Sea parted. But then, did they expect him to lug vats of drinking water this deep into the desert? When we place too much faith in our leaders to “just fix it,” we’re looking for trouble. Moses demonstrates that it is not himself but only God who can quench our thirst.

We also hear of Jesus being thirsty. We will hear about his thirst again on Good Friday. But today Jesus just needs someone with a bucket to come along and help him out. And the banter that follows, between two people who nobody would ever imagine speaking to each other, will reveal that the Samaritan woman with the bucket is far thirstier than Jesus is.

How about you? What are you thirsty for today?

We all get thirsty in the literal sense, it’s also a common expression. We can be thirsty for knowledge, thirsty for justice, thirsty for power, thirsty for new leadership … even bloodthirsty! Honestly, if you look at the whole history of written English, I imagine that we are thirsty for abstract concepts more often than we are for a mere drink of water.

Last week I referenced my own thirst. I said that I became a priest because I recognized that I would never lose my thirst for the knowledge of God—nor would I ever want to! Well, there is indeed something wonderful about being thirsty, as long as we know that our thirst can be quenched. C.S. Lewis once observed that humans get thirsty, and lo and behold, there is water. Humans get hungry, and there is food. Humans get tired, and there is sleep. Humans feel sexy, and that urge also has a natural solution in God’s world.

Alongside all these desires, we feel a deep, deep longing for that which is transcendent—whatever it is that’s behind and beyond this being-alive stuff. Lewis observed that all our other longings point to something specific that can relieve them. Surely this more profound longing must be able to be relieved as well! Behind everything in the universe is a constant, fundamental, life-giving, mysterious Source—a deep, deep well. I want to spend all of my brief life on Earth thirsty for that.

Have you ever found yourself in a late-night conversation with a new friend—the kind of talk that just goes on and on, and that you never want to stop, even though you both have to work in the morning? Have you ever fallen in love and wanted to spend all your time with that one fascinating person? Have you ever become a parent, knowing that you would give your life for the new little human you’re cuddling in your arms? There’s a kind of thirst to these situations, isn’t there?

I see something like this happening between Jesus and the woman at the well. Their conversation has an electrical charge—and the living water Jesus offers her is conducting that charge back and forth between them. The Samaritan woman will never be the same after today. She has suffered, and she learns at the well that her suffering can be relieved. She has endured, and her endurance has solidified her character such that Jesus is genuinely enjoying her company. Jesus sees how curious she is, how thirsty she is, and he guides her toward clarity. The end result, of course, is hope.

Let’s contrast the scene at the well with the scenes we’ve had to endure in the world the past couple weeks. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth has been speaking freely and with apparent glee about the violence he is raining down on Iran. Hegseth is firmly rooted in the specifically American belief that when enough violence happens in the Middle East, that will cause Jesus to say, “I guess it’s time now for me to return.” And when he does show up, most likely he’ll be lugging an M-16.

Someone is whispering in Pete Hegseth’s ear, “All these will be yours if you will just fall down and worship me.” I don’t think that’s the kind of thing Jesus promises. In fact, I can identify no connection between the Jesus I meet every day in the gospels and the muscular, vengeful, bloodthirsty little deity that Hegseth worships.

But don’t allow yourself to hate Pete Hegseth. Rather, I think we should pity him. Somehow he has missed out on the most crucial plank in all Christian theology, and that is God’s love. Paul’s Letter to the Romans is long and complicated and worthy of a lifetime of study, but let’s approach a few of the basics of God’s love with care. What does it mean when Paul says “Christ died for us”? What does it mean to be “justified by his blood”? Even more crucially, what does it mean to be “saved through him from the wrath of God”?

When this language is misused, it literally kills people, even by the thousands.

Let’s look at an example. If you grew up with a father who was frequently petty and irritable, ready to lash out at you for any perceived slight, your image of God might still be rather like him. He might demand that someone suffer to quell his anger. His wrath may be so omnipresent that you just assume it’s normal for all parents to hurt their children.

Well, our parents are our first models of God, and that’s just a part of being human. As we grow, though, we’re not supposed to cling to these models. We should transcend them. If we don’t, we may learn from a violent father’s example that it’s OK to treat others the same way—or even that living this way is somehow holy. That’s just one example of how we might come to worship someone other than the actual Creator of the universe.

Paul offers a far worthier understanding: we don’t have to do anything for God to rescue us from ourselves. Jesus is not just sent by God—Jesus is the very presence of God drawing close to us, holding his arms open to embrace us instead of flinging lightning bolts from above. Paul’s word “justified” means being in right relationship with God. The relationship is repaired, though we ourselves were unable to do the repairing. No matter what, God always loves us and wants to quench our thirst.

Now, the Jesus we meet in the gospels does indeed get angry—we could even say wrathful! But his wrath comes from his desire to defend those who are suffering—those who are under the thumb of people who brag of “death and destruction all day long”—whether they be Roman emperors or European colonizers or bloodthirsty American theofascists. But though he gets angry, Jesus is never vengeful. He’s always ready to meet us at the well, where the true life-giving water never runs dry.

Jesus does not need to be defended from unbelievers, and if you kill others for him, you’ll find that you were actually killing for someone else. There is no such thing as Christian violence.

The point of Christianity is that if you’ve ever felt lost, well … your rescue is already complete! It’s true for all of us. Now we get to live in the joy of our eternal rescue, encouraging one another by sharing love freely. The process of recognizing our inherent, God-given holiness and making it more and more real continues through the living of our lives. This is what we call salvation: it is already assured, but it comes into focus in real time.

Like it or not, sometimes suffering plays a role in that development. Suffering can lead to the skill of endurance, though not always—far too often, it only leads to lasting damage. Yet where there is suffering, we do find opportunities to act in the name of God’s merciful love. Sharing a cup of water with the thirsty also quenches our own thirst. We are to follow the Lord of mercy. We are not to follow insecure bullies who make “no mercy” their battle cry.

Does all this make you thirsty for more? I hope so! Does it lead to a little more clarity? I hope so. But more about that next week. Amen.