The Temporary Loss Involved in Eternal Gain

‘The woman then left her waterpot, and went her way into the city, and saith, Is not this the Christ?”” — Joun iv. 28, 29.

HE leaving behind of the pitcher was an act of forgetfulness. It was a forgetfulness of something which half an hour before had engrossed her whole attention. She has come to draw water — to provide for the secular wants of daily life. She has filled the pitcher and is about to carry it home. Suddenly she meets Jesus and hears something that fascinates her. She forgets all about the pitcher — about her long walk to fill it and the trouble she has had in the process. She leaves it behind as though it were of no consequence to her; she flies back to the city on the wings of a new thought. The leaving behind of the pitcher was a lapse of memory on her part. Lapses of

memory are often referred to mental weakness;

I think the larger number come from mental strength — absorption in a deeper interest. It is often charged against revival movements that they withdraw our minds from common and useful things. In the keenness of the new pursuit the pitcher may be unfilled or it may be filled and left behind at the well. I have frequently heard critics animadvert on the home deshabille of those engrossed in religious meetings. But if the religion be sincere, that is a mere temporary disorder; it will not last This woman would find the pitcher again, and she would be a better drawer of water ever afterward. She would find that the new interest would not only make room for the old but intensify the value of the old. Had not the drawing of the water already been consecrated! ‘Had not this humble secular act ministered to the thirsty lips of the Son of Man! With such an association, could it ever be secular any more! The site of a great victory may be only a village hamlet; but the victory makes it immortal. The consecration of this cup to Christ made it sacramental. Her going to the well would nevermore be common or unclean. It would thenceforth be always a sacred duty, a Church service, a work for the sanctuary. It would be as solemn to her as a prayer. The place of household sustenance would be holy; she would always expect, when she went to the well, to meet a Christ there.

Lord, when I meet Thee, do not let me leave my pitcher for long behind! Insignificant as it seems, it may yet perform a service to Thee. Often in my moment of elevated rapture I have said, “‘ Let me forget the things of the day and of the dust!” And by and by there has come a thorn. The troubles of the home have called me down from the mount. Common duties, prosaic demands, domestic needs, have clamoured for a hearing; the cloud has interrupted the vision of Moses and Elias and Thee. I call that cloud my thorn, and it makes me fret. I ery within my soul, ‘“Why, after having seen Thee, should I be sent back to my pitcher at the well!” Teach me to thank Thee for the thorn just because it sends me back! Teach me that this life below was not made to be left behind! Teach me that the pitcher at the well was not intended to be broken when the new vision came, but rather to become a vessel of Thy sanctuary, a cup for Thy communion! Forbid that Thy light should irradiate only my mountains! Let it come down, O Lord — down to street and lane, down to mart and alley! May it warm the household hearth; may it prepare the morning meal; may it provide the daily dinner; may it trim the twilight torch; may it tune the social song; may it prompt congenial converse; may it wake melodious mirth; may it lift financial fogs; may it cheer business embarrassments; may it revive heavy hearts; may it guide panting pilgrims to the well! Let me resume for Thee the pitcher I have left behind!