I Am Thirsty

A Sermon for Good Friday
April 2, 2021

Text: Psalm 69:1-21

I speak to you in the name of our loving, liberating, and life-giving God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

From the sixty-ninth psalm:

Save me, O God,
for the waters have come up to my neck. 
I sink in deep mire,
where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters,
and the flood sweeps over me. 
I am weary with my crying;
my throat is parched.
My eyes grow dim
with waiting for my God.

I don’t think we can hear the opening verses of Psalm 69 without considering the dangers of one of God’s most precious gifts—the gift of water.

Water is a source of life.
It sustains us when we’re thirsty.
It provides us with the means to wash ourselves when we’re dirty.
It causes the fruits of the earth to grow and flourish.
It cools our bodies in hot, sweltering weather.

But, water can also be dangerous.

It can be a source of destruction and death. All you have to do is ask someone who’s lived through a  flash flood or a major hurricane, and they’ll tell you.

No wonder it’s used to symbolize both death and new life in the sacrament of Holy Baptism, our initiation into the Body of Christ.

No wonder the image of water is so deeply connected to the final days of Holy Week as we draw closer to Jesus and become participants in his death and resurrection.

Last night, in the liturgy for Maundy Thursday, water was used in the washing of feet, a symbol of the new commandment that Jesus gave to his disciples before he was handed over to those who would persecute him.  Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Jesus says to us, “Unless you allow yourselves to be washed in the love of God, you have no way of knowing what it means to serve God.”

Tomorrow night, on the eve of Easter, water will be used as a symbol of new life. After we kindle the new fire and process into the darkened nave of the church, we’ll once again hear the ancient story of Israel’s deliverance from bondage in Egypt as God’s chosen people were led through the Red Sea on dry land.  Water will also be used to baptize those being received into the Body of Christ and to remind us all of the vows that were made at our own baptism.

But, before we can get to the Great Vigil of Easter, we must observe this solemn day. On this day, there is no water. On this day, the absence of water is used to illustrate the agony that our Lord experienced on the cross. The wellspring has run dry. The font is empty. Like Jesus, we long for water to quench our thirst. We long with Jesus for God’s Kingdom to finally be fulfilled.

Jesus said while hanging on the cross, “I am thirsty.”

Good Friday is our most explicit reminder that the Kingdom of God—God’s dream of redemption for this cruel and sinful world—is not yet fulfilled.

How many of our brothers and sisters in the world struggle each day to make ends meet, unsure of where their next meal will come from, unsure of where they’ll lay their head for the night, unsure of how they’ll provide necessities for their children? How many people live with the fear and constant threat of oppression, violence, and discrimination? How many people around the world wonder whether each new day will be their last?

I ask these questions because on this day, perhaps more than any other day throughout the year, we remember those who’ve been forgotten. We remember those who’ve been overlooked because of the sins of the world, because of the sins we’ve committed, both known and unknown.

I ask these questions because Good Friday is the day when we walk with Christ in his suffering as he journeys to the cross. Today is the day when we offer up our whole selves—our broken and thirsty selves—with the one who was crucified, the one who sacrificed himself so that we might be delivered from the power of sin and death and brought into new and everlasting life.

In our day to day lives, we often lose sight of what it is that we thirst for. Good Friday is the day when we remember. It’s an opportunity to ask for God’s forgiveness as we leave our sins at the foot of the cross.

God knows that we struggle. God knows that we aren’t perfect and that we’re going to get it wrong from time to time. But, God also knows that we’re on a journey to become more like Jesus.

Perhaps, Mary Oliver illustrates this best in her poem, “Thirst.”

Another morning and I wake with thirst
for the goodness I do not have. I walk
out to the pond and all the way God has
given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,
I was never a quick scholar but sulked
and hunched over my books past the hour
and the bell; grant me, in your mercy,
a little more time. Love for the earth
and love for you are having such a long
conversation in my heart. Who knows what
will finally happen or where I will be sent,
yet already I have given a great many things
away, expecting to be told to pack nothing,
except the prayers which, with this thirst,
I am slowy learning.

Oh Lord, be patient with us. In your mercy, grant us a little more time.

Love for the earth and love for you are having such long conversations in our hearts. Daily, we struggle to live our lives as you would have us live.

As we thirst for your Kingdom, accept the prayers and supplications that we offer before you for your whole creation, and in our moments of weakness and transgression, look with favor upon us, we humbly pray.  Amen.