READ: PSALM 63:1-5; MATTHEW 11:28-30; JOHN 4:7-15; 7:37-39

Not much farther, Mai chanted to herself. Not much farther. Brittle sand attacked her eyes, blinding her, but she was so dehydrated they weren’t even watering. She’d sweat until her dusty and crusty robes were caked to her skin. Her utterly dry throat hurt when she swallowed, and the air she breathed only scratched her sand-filled nose. Water. Not much farther.

The sandstorm refused to relent, its billows wrapping around her, pushing her this way and that. But she kept her eyes narrowed on the bluish glow on the horizon—her oasis. In a hoarse voice, the wind ushered her toward the blurry hope, “This way. Water has sprung up from the world, and it is good. It will save you.” Mai obliged. Not much farther. It was close, she had to be getting closer. But with every step, the haven seemed to float away.

“No, it’s that way!” the wind howled in outrage. A blustery current of sand made her swirl around to see a pool that was just behind her. She pulled off her gloves. Now she was so close, if she reached out her hands she could—Mai heaved a sigh of relief. Water. She reached farther so her elbows soaked in the coolness.

“Drink. The water from this world is good,” the wind murmured in her ear. She could feel the wind’s presence looming over her, weighed down by the sand and particles it carried. She leaned forward so her lips were a mere breath away from the surface of the pool, and hesitated. Will it really be enough? Mai shook the doubt away and plunged her face in.

The cool water ran down her cheeks as she scooped more into her palms to sip from. Each mouthful of water left her desperate for more. The water travelled down to her empty stomach where she felt it sloshing like acid burning a hole within her. It was salty; her mouth was still parched even full of it, and she couldn’t help choking at the taste.

The blustery wind died down completely, and the heat of the sun settled afresh on Mai’s back. She blinked. The oasis in front of her seemed to waver. She shook her head, and it disappeared into the sand. Mai was again alone in the desert, feeling as dry and parched and weary as the land itself. Her throat burned from the salt water that did nothing to cure her dehydration. She tried to journey on, but each step had her wavering, and there was nowhere else to go. The horizons were void of all signs of life.

“Mai,” a voice sang from behind her, as smooth and sweet as honey itself. She turned to see a figure swathed in robes like the ocean. He held a chalice out to her. “Come, have a drink.”

Deep longing and desire for just a sip of water soared through her, but she said, “No. The water from this world is poisoned. I’ve already tried.”

The man beckoned her closer. “Only the water I give will quench your heavy and labored soul. What I give you is life—it is not as this world gives. Come.”

Slowly, Mai approached him, dizzy and lightheaded. His hand steadied her as she reached out for him, and the life-giving water he offered. Mai took the chalice. The moment the water touched her chapped lips, and the first trickle of water slipped down her throat, she was anew. • Zoe Brickner

• In this allegorical story, the wind is like Satan’s lies and the misleading voices all around us that promise hope and renewal. But when we look to created things for what only the Creator can give, we always come up empty-handed. Can you think of a time you got something you really wanted, but it didn’t end up being as satisfying as you thought it would be?

• Unlike all the world’s offerings, Jesus gives us “living water” that not only satisfies us but sustains us— this water is the Holy Spirit, which He gives freely to everyone who puts their trust in Him. John 4 tells the story of a Samaritan woman’s encounter with Jesus at...