Stones, Dirt, and Branches
In the last article, we explored how a shepherd creates a water station – a place where the current slows enough for sheep to drink. This doesn’t happen by stopping the river or forcing the sheep, but by working with the flow of the water and the shape of the land. So let’s stay with that image and move a bit closer. Because if we’re honest, finding water isn’t so much the issue; it’s just the current still feels too fast.
Why the Water Still Feels Out of Reach
The life Jesus describes in John 4 isn’t hidden, reserved for a few, or located somewhere upstream that we haven’t reached yet. The water is already present. However, for many of us, the flow feels too fast.
Honestly, life moves quickly, and our attention is constantly scattered. Habits push us forward while expectations – both internal and external – keep the current moving at a fast pace. As a result, even when we pause or gather with others, something in us still feels rushed, like standing beside a stream that never quite settles.
The Shepherd’s Work Up Close
So what does the shepherd actually do? When the water flows too fast, he doesn’t redesign the river, build a dam, or even eliminate the current. Instead, he creates a place within it – a small diversion, a water station.
This involves placing stones where the current presses too hard, shaping dirt to hold what would otherwise pass by, and allowing branches to catch debris and begin filtering the flow. Over time, the water slows – not everywhere, but just enough; in that space, where sheep can finally lower their head without fear and drink.
Recognizing the Materials
In the life of a Christian community, these materials aren’t hard to recognize. In fact, they’re familiar. They show up in simple, repeated practices that shape shared life, such as:
- gathering at the table
- rhythms of prayer
- Sabbath rest
- shared stories
- confession without shame
- making space for grief and joy
- time spent in one another’s homes
While these practices are neither new nor complicated, they begin to do something important over time. Rather than forcing change, they slow the current as we patiently practice them consistently.
Not the Water – but Necessary
It helps to remember: these practices aren’t the water. They don’t produce the life Jesus gives, nor do they manufacture spiritual depth. But they create something just as necessary – a place where life is received.
In that kind of space, desire is no longer constantly pushed forward. Instead, attention begins to settle, and trust has room to grow. Slowly, almost unnoticed, people begin to drink.
When the Water Still Feels Unsettled
Even so, there are times when the station is present but something still feels off. The practices are in place, the space is created, and the water is slow, yet the rest Jesus offers doesn’t quite come.
At times, this has to do with how we arrive to a church gathering – feeling rushed, distracted or guarded. No shame; pretty normal when sometimes life seems to flow at the pace of high speed internet.
But not always.
Sometimes the space itself can have a vibe to it. Unspoken expectations, unwritten rules, subtle cues about what is and isn’t OK. A sense – hard to put your finger on it but still feels like you’re being sized up.
Even in small gatherings, even among sincere people, we can feel this in the environment. Because wherever people gather, there’s more than welcome – there’s also risk. Without risk, there can’t be trust.
Trust Within the Current
This is where trust starts to take shape. Not something earned only once the space feels safe but as something given within it. In this sense, trust isn’t a reward; it’s a gift given. And like any gift, it carries the possibility of being received – or not.
Have you ever found yourself in an environment feeling a bit cautious or quietly questioning what you see and hear? I think that’s a good thing; it helps to make trust real. If you don’t have the choice to hold back, then trust would just be compliance – responding based on the expectations of others rather than choosing to give of yourself freely.
So, within the life of a Christian community, both things happen at once. First, we’re learning how to show up. Secondly, we’re learning how to make space for one another. Over time, as this takes shape, trust is given with room to grow.
A Subtle Shift
Often, without realizing it, we begin to feel pressure to show up a certain way. Based on past experiences, our attention has learned what to pay attention to and what to ignore. Our focus needs to shift to how we show up within a church community – but also, as a people, how we hold that space for one another.
- Are we arriving rushed or attentive?
- Are we performing or receiving?
- Are we trying to manage the moment, or are we willing to let it unfold?
Although this attention shift is subtle, it changes everything. The difference between standing near water and actually drinking isn’t about location – it’s about presence…ours, together.
From Standing Near Water to Drinking
For many of us within the Christian community, faith has often been framed by the question, What would Jesus do? That’s a sincere question. Yet, it can unintentionally keep Jesus at a distance, as though we’re standing from the sidelines; trying to imitate what we see.
However, what if the question shifts?
What would Jesus do… if he were me – right here, in this moment, within this relationship?
Notice how asking the question from this angle, doesn’t replace us; as if we’re watching from the outside. Instead, it recognizes that Christ is present within us – no sacred/secular divide. As a result, the focus moves from imitation to participation, from watching the water to realizing we’re already standing in it.
Many Rivers, One Place
Also, this slight shift reshapes how we understand Christian community. No one arrives empty. Each person carries a current already in motion – a history, a pattern, a way the water has learned a familiar flow.
We well know when these lives come together, the process isn’t always smooth. In places, the flow feels uneven. Some waters carry weight. Some take longer to settle.
After all, a river doesn’t grow by remaining separate – it grows as streams meet.
Looking Ahead: When the River Widens
As people return to these shared spaces – to gather, eat, pray, and live life together – something deeper starts to take shape. Over time, these rhythms begin to hold something more than meaningful moments; they begin forming relationships.
Over time, the space itself begins to widen. What started as a place to drink becomes something more – a place where life can take root.
Because in the end, it’s not only the water station that matters. The banks of the river matter too. And those banks – those attachments – determine whether the water continues to rush past or becomes a place where life can flourish. Next time, meet me at the banks of the river.