There’s something humbling about the way our bodies respond to intense weather. We sweat, we tire quickly, we seek shade and shelter. It reminds me of our limitations, our fragility. No matter how strong or productive we try to be, summer slows us down. It forces us to listen to our needs and to take breaks. In a world that celebrates busyness and constant motion, summer becomes a quiet invitation to rest. As the temperature rises, I sense God whispering, “Slow down. Listen to your body. Let Me refresh your soul.”
Drinking water has become almost a ritual—something I do without thinking, yet every gulp reminds me of how much I need it. And in that need, I’m reminded of Jesus’ words in John 4:14: “But whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” These words were spoken to a woman who had come to draw water in the heat of the day. She was thirsty, not just in her body, but in her spirit. Jesus met her there, not with judgment, but with an offer—a chance to be truly satisfied.
That verse has lingered in my heart all day. I’ve been thinking about how easy it is to try and quench our thirst with things that don’t last. We pour our energy into success, approval, control, or distraction, hoping these things will make us feel full. But like cold water in the heat, the satisfaction they bring is only temporary. We find ourselves thirsty again. And again. Could it be that our souls are longing for something deeper, something more eternal?
As I watched the sun blaze outside, I couldn’t help but think of the Israelites wandering through the desert. They, too, were hot and thirsty. Their journey was full of struggle, and yet, time and again, God provided for them—manna from heaven, water from a rock. In Exodus 17:6, the Lord tells Moses, “Strike the rock, and water will come out of it for the people to drink.” It’s such a powerful image: God making streams flow from stone, providing in the most unexpected way. That’s the kind of God we serve—a God who meets us in the middle of our dryness and makes provision where there seems to be none.
This summer heat has made me realize how much I rely on things I often take for granted—clean water, electricity, a cool room to escape into. But it’s also made me aware of the people who do not have these things. What about those who walk long distances just for drinking water? What about the elderly who endure the heat without air conditioning? What does love look like in a season like this? Perhaps part of the invitation in this heat is to think beyond ourselves and open our hearts to others. How can we be a cup of cold water to someone else? How can we make room for someone who needs shelter from the heat, physically or spiritually?
I’ve also noticed how easily frustration creeps in when I’m uncomfortable. Heat can make me short-tempered, impatient, and restless. But discomfort is not always a bad thing. It reveals what’s beneath the surface. It shows me what I lean on when I feel overwhelmed. And sometimes, it leads me to prayer. Not the long, well-worded kind, but the quiet, honest kind: “Lord, help me be kind,” or “Jesus, I’m tired,” or simply, “Be near.” These prayers are like cool streams in the desert. They don’t change the temperature outside, but they shift something within me.
The seasons of our lives are not always external. Sometimes we go through internal summers—seasons of dryness, weariness, or burning questions. We long for refreshing, but it feels just out of reach. If that’s where you are, I want to ask: where are you drawing your water from? Is it from the well of busyness, appearance, or performance? Or are you drinking from the well of Christ? He offers water that does not run dry. He offers rest not just for the body, but for the soul.
In Matthew 11:28, Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” That invitation stands in every season, but I feel it more deeply now, when the sun is scorching and my energy is low. He calls us not to perform, not to strive, but to come. To sit. To be still. To drink deeply.
I think of the moments today when I paused to breathe, to sip water slowly, to close my eyes and just be. In those simple moments, I sensed a deeper invitation: to let Jesus be my rest, my shade, my living water. To remember that even in the heat, I am not alone. He walks with me, He refreshes me, He covers me with grace like a cloud.
So as summer settles in, I choose to listen to what it’s saying. I choose to drink deeply—not just from my water bottle, but from the well of grace. I choose to be more aware of my needs and the needs of others. I choose to let this season soften me, slow me, and stretch me.
And what about you? Are you thirsty? Not just for something to cool your body, but for something to calm your soul? Are you running on empty, worn out by the heat of life? Jesus is still offering living water. Still meeting people in the heat of the day. Still refreshing hearts that come to Him.
Why not pause right now and ask Him to meet you where you are? Why not take a deep breath, drink some water, and let that simple act remind you of His love? His well is deep, and His water never runs dry.
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