Exodus 17:1-3

Give us water, that we may drink.

Rephidim: ancient and modern

How far have we travelled from Rephidim? This is mere than a question in geography: it is a profound inquiry in morals. How far have we advanced morally, spiritually, and in all the higher ranges and Diviner outlooks of our being? Here we seem to be still at Rephidim. Geographers say they cannot find out the exact locality. Verily, there need be no difficulty about the exact locality--it is just where we are. Why be so emphatic about our being at Rephidim?

I. Because the people at Rephidim were tormented by a continual consciousness of necessity. How far have we got from necessity? Not one inch. Necessity has followed us all the time. We must advance from the lower to the higher. We have it before us as a certain and indisputable fact that for the support of the body we need external help: we need the whole ministry of kind and gracious nature. What wonder if in the education, and culture, and strengthening of the soul we need all heaven, with its infinite Trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost? Were we pressed to affirm that necessity it would be in strict consonance with all the other wants that follow and devour our wasting life.

II. Because at Rephidim help was found in unexpected places and given in unexpected ways: “Thou shalt smite the rock, and there shall come water out of it, that the people may drink.” We are always helped by unexpected people, in unexpected ways, and at unexpected places. God would appear to delight in baffling the ingenuity that would forecast the future with too exclusive a minuteness. God will not allow us to trifle with His prerogatives. He will find water where we should find none. Why be so emphatic about still being at Rephidim?

III. Because peevish tempers were corrected by great duties in that ancient locality. Israel fell into fretfulness, and whining, and dissatisfaction, and rebellion. What did God do? He sent Amalek upon Israel. That is the function of war among the nations. It is no use reasoning with peevishness. It is time wasted to try to expostulate with any man who is in a whining mood of soul, displeased because of his bread, discontented because of the scarcity of water, making no allowance for the undulations of life--reasoning, remonstrance, expostulation would be lost. What must be done? An enemy must be raised up to smite him with the sword. Then he will come into a new mood of mind, forget his littleness, and, springing forward to a realization of his true power, he will lose in service the discontent which he contracted in unbelief. What we want to-day is persecution. We do not want eloquence, criticism--new learning, some new invention in theological confectionery that shall tempt appetites that have been sated; we want war--persecution--the enemy at the gate. Then we should begin to forgive one another, to pray for one another, to come more closely together at the altar and more near in that consent of soul which is blessed with insight into spiritual mysteries. We have lost in losing the enemy. The sting of Smithfield fire would correct our theology a good deal; the old gibbet would take the fretfulness out of our tone; the great earthquake rocking our cities would make us forget our animosities and unite us in bolder intercession. (J. Parker, D. D.)

Refreshing thoughts for the hot season

I was told by a gentleman who walked over one of the battle-fields on a hot summer night, after a day of carnage, that the cry of the wounded was absolutely unbearable, and after giving all supply that he could, he put his fingers to his ears, for the cry all over the plain was from hundreds of dying men, “Water! Water! For God’s sake, give us water.” Coming home from the store on a hot summer day, in the eventide, every muscle of your body exhausted with fatigue, what do you first ask for? A cup of water--fresh, clear, sparkling water. This Bible is all agleam with fountains, and rivers, and seas. The prophet sees the millennium, and cries, “Streams in the desert.” David thinks of the deep joy of the righteous, and calls it “A river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God.” While the New Testament holds forth ten thousand chalices filled with living water for a thirsty world.

I. Water is typical of the Gospel, because of its brightness. The fountain breaks forth from the side of the hill, flashing with gold, and silver, and beryl, and chrysolite; and as you see it, you almost clap your hands with gladness. But there is no brightness in it compared with this living fountain of the Gospel; for in each falling drop I see the glory of heaven.

II. Water typifies the Gospel by its refreshment. How different you feel after you get a glass of cool water, or after you have plunged into a bath! On a hot summer day there is nothing that so soon brings you back from a bad temper or a disturbed spirit, and puts you into a happy frame of mind and body, as cold water. Blessed be God for water. I love to hear it fall in the shower and dash in the cascade, and to see it rush from the ice pitcher into the clear glass. Hand round this nectar of the hills and drink, all of you, to the praise of Him who brewed it among the mountains. Thank God for water. But there is a better refreshment even than that. There was a time when you were hounded by convictions. Sinai thundered. The wrath of God cried, “Fly.” Justice cried, “Fly.” Your own fears cried, “Fly.” Mercy said, “Come, come!” and you plunged like a hart into the water brooks, and out of that flood your soul came up cool, and clean, and radiant; and you looked round and said, Come, and hear ye all that fear God, and I will tell you what He hath done for my soul.”

III. Water typifies the Gospel because of its abundance. When we pour the water from the pitcher into the glass we have to be careful, or the glass will overflow, and we stop when the water has come to the rim. But when God, in summer, pours out His showers, He keeps pouring on and pouring on until the grass blades cry, “Enough!” and the flowers, “Enough!” and the trees, “Enough!” but God keeps pouring on and pouring on, until the fields are soaked, and the rivers overflow, and the cisterns are all filled and the great reservoirs are supplied, and there is water to turn the wheel, water to slake the thirst of the city, water to cleanse the air, water to wash the hemisphere. Abundance! And so with this glorious gospel. Enough for one, enough for all. Just after the battle of Antietam, with some of the other members of the Christian Commission, I went down to help look after the wounded, and on the afternoon of a very hot day I came to a pump of water. I saw a soldier, with musket, guarding the pump. I said, “Why do you not fill my cup?” He replied, “Water is scarce. Here is a great army, and we do not know where to get water after this is gone; and I have orders to give no more than that.” What a poor supply for a thirsty man on a hot day I But, glory be to God! that in this gospel fountain there is water enough for all the armies of the earth, and for all the armies of heaven. You cannot drink it dry.

IV. Water typifies the Gospel in the fact that it is perennial. In this hot summer weather some of the fountains have dried up; but stand you on the bank of the Amazon, or of the St. Lawrence, or of the Mississippi, or of the Ohio, and see if it runs dry. No; they have been flowing on for thousands of years, and they will probably flow on for thousands of years more. The trees of the forest have cast their leaves for ages into the bosom of these waters, and the birds of heaven have dipped their wings in the wave. And so it is with this gospel. It is a perennial gospel. On earth we only see a portion of that great River of Life; but after a while the river will rise, and it will join the tides of the celestial river that flows hard by the throne of God. (T. De Witt Talmage, D. D.)

Want of water a terrible experience

About 1858, while a number of routes from the proposed, now completed, Pacific railway were being surveyed, E. T. Scovill, of Cleveland, was in charge of a corps of engineers in Nevada. On one occasion they were obliged to leave their base of supplies for a trip of six days. On the fourth day’s journey their water gave out, and the sufferings of men and beasts were terrible. The heat appeared to rise from the sand like vapour and dance a death dance before the sufferers’ eyes. Not a breath of air stirred. The sun was like a great round furnace, The horses struggled on, their noses hung nearly to the ground, and their eyes bulged out of their heads like knots on a tree. Two of the men became delirious and were bound in the waggons. Near night a gulch was reached and all plunged into it expecting to find water. It was dry! The situation was desperate, when Mr. Scovill, taking in the situation at a glance, directed some to go up the gulch and some down and the one who found water to shout. Some found wet gravel and sand and with their hands dug a hole into which trickled water. It was brackish and warm, but it was water. Nothing ever tasted sweeter. They were saved. Next morning by digging a deep hole in the creek bed a good supply of water was obtained. As they were about to move away the next morning the thought struck Mr. Scovill that some other poor creature might come along the trail, strike the gulch, find a dry instead of a wet camp, and despair. So he took an empty flour-barrel and scrawled upon it: “Water 1,000 feet up the gulch, E. T. Scovill, chief of engineers.” This he stuck in the sand by the side of the trail. Now the scene of the story shifts to South America. Mr. Scovill sat in the Llama Club, Lima. He had gone to Peru to help Henry Meigs build those wonderful railways in the mountains. Here, to a company of Americans and English, he told the story of his journey across the plains. There was one man in the party who was evidently excited. As Mr. Scovill reached the end of the story, and told how he had put up the sign that water could be found a thousand feet up the gulch, the nervous stranger, a man of giant frame, leaped from his seat and took Scovill in his arms as if the latter had been a child. “Then you are the man, are you”? he exclaimed; “you are the man who saved my life. I went across the desert a few days after you. I--my companions and I--suffered as you suffered. On the way we killed our horses and drank their blood. When we finally reached the gulch we had just strength enough left to enable us to crawl down into the dry creek bed. There we lay down to die, when one of us happened to see your blessed guide board. A thousand feet up the gulch we found water. If we hadn’t I should not be here to-night to take the hand of the man who saved our lives.”