Water, Water, Everywhere

On the Fourth of July, a town near where I live has a big parade, which they proudly promote as the second largest in the state, after Philadelphia. Having experienced Fourth of July in Philly, I suspect it was not a close contest. But however large or small, you can't beat a parade for a festive occasion.

For the past several years, my church has had a float in the parade, giving away thousands of bottles of water to the people on the sidelines "to show God's love in a practical way." There's no talking or church invitation, just a bottle of water for anybody who's thirsty. At church the week before, everybody told me how much fun it was. "It's so hot, and people just love getting any icy cold bottle of water for free!" they said. Okay, I thought, why not? So in a burst of fellow-feeling, I signed up. I trusted them so unquestioningly that on the morning of the parade, I didn't even consider the thunderclouds gathering overhead.

It started to rain when we were gathering in a parking lot nearby, and as we headed over to the parade on the flatbed trailer, it poured. I was sitting against a cooler, and I could feel that an enormous pool of water had accumulated in my T-shirt above where my back was pressed against the edge, and that the water was going to gush down my back when I moved. (Did I mention that it was a cold day too?)

It sounds miserable, but it really wasn't bad--even drenched, the company went a long way. We huddled under the doorway of a warehouse near the railroad tracks for about two hours, waiting for our turn, and I can honestly say that I was glad to be there. These are people you'd want to huddle with in a rainstorm, and the fact that they didn't even think of backing out silenced my own ambivalence about staying. That, and other fact that I hadn't driven myself.

So, anyway, we got to the parade part, and it was true--it was a lot of fun to give away the water. It was fun to see how many people wanted the water even though it had been pouring down rain minutes ago. It was fun to see that they were surprised it was free, and it was fun to to see that some people were waiting for us and saying things like, "Oh, look, it's the church! We hoped you were coming!" It was fun to serve in a physical way--just keep handing out the bottles and smiling and moving on. No thinking necessary.

Except that I did find myself doing a little superfluous thinking. Some people took more than one bottle, hiding them under their chair or their jacket and flagging down the next water-person. Other people were noticeably drunk ("Hey, honey, you got anything stronger?"). Lots of people didn't say thank you. All of these people I found exasperating, and undeserving of water. I wanted to give the water to the cute little kids, or the veterans with their caps, or the little old wives who had gotten one but had given it right away to their husbands or grandkids. Part of our team stayed on the float, refilling buckets of water bottles for us to hand out as we walked along, and I thought, the people on the float don't have to make such hard and consequential decisions as who gets the water.

Yes, that's right--I found myself trying to decide who was deserving of water. One of our most basic necessities, and the substance that we're made of (something like 70% if you believe what you read on the internet). Water, in this case, that we were supposed to be giving away as a sign of God's unconditional, free, and lavish love. Because here's the thing: God doesn't give His mysterious, abundant life to those who act like they deserve it, who are generous or nice or polite or sober. He gives it to anyone who reaches out a hand, however selfish or grabby or inebriated with alchohol or self-righteousness.

Sometimes new situations wake you from your grogginess, and you dimly hear Him calling you, and in the spaciousness of the echo you realize how far your heart has drifted from His. But you do listen, and He calls again, and like a creature coming sluggishly out of hibernation, you start moving.