Well, Well, Well

Several years ago, a young man from a church neighboring my own was given a severe cancer diagnosis seemingly overnight. Though the cancer was detected early and swiftly acted upon by doctors, the disease was spreading rapidly nonetheless—a terminal diagnosis seemed imminent.

I did not know this young man particularly well, and given he lived a ways away from where I did, it seemed likely that I would not have opportunity to speak to him in-person. However, I thought it good to extend some form of encouragement to this young man if I could, however simple.

And simple my encouragement was. In the end, I merely wrote a short letter and passed it along to the young man through a mutual friend of ours. Indeed, I acknowledged the simplicity of my gesture in the letter itself.

However, having lost my own father to cancer just the year prior, I had come to realize the weight even the simplest of words could carry, particularly in the form of letters from dear friends. Indeed, to this very day one particular hand-written letter stands out from among the rest. In it, a dear sister wisely observed that there would soon come a day when the messages, phone calls, and consolations began to die down. In the midst of grief, there is a unique kind of loneliness that can so easily begin to take hold—even when among friends and family, and much more so when one is alone. But, as she went on to write, her hope was that this letter would serve as an enduring reminder—even as our home grew steadily more silent—that our family was loved and cared for by many. These many years later, she scarcely could have known how true her words were, and how deeply they encouraged me both then and in the months that followed.

In my letter to this young man, I provided an illustration of sorts. I straightaway made clear that my words, in and of themselves, were nothing special. However, I went on to write that perhaps my words could be, temporary and fleeting as they were, as cups of cold water to his weary soul. By drawing from the wellspring of God’s word and His precious promises, it was my hope that the little words I offered to my brother in Christ would serve as refreshment and encouragement, strengthening him sufficiently so that he could go to and from the well on his own strength in due time. If I could not bring him to the well, nor the well to him, then it was my heart’s intent to bring that cold, living water his way cup by cup.

You see, brothers and sisters, that is the very essence of encouragement. I did not offer to that young man anything he did not already know: I just pointed him back to the well from which those cold cups of water flowed. We are not the well, we are not that fountainhead of living water—only the Lord God is capable of such lasting refreshment. And yet, in His great wisdom God has delegated to us the incredible privilege of pointing other weary travellers to the source of our own refreshment.

True encouragement, even in its minutest form, be it a kind word or cup of cold water, is mighty enough to change the course of another’s life. When we give another soul a cup of cold water, our aim should be to strengthen them enough that, cup by cup, they find their joy and zeal yet again in the Lord Himself:

“Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body” (Proverbs 16:24).

What a joy to be used by the Lord in such a way. At times, only a cup or two is needed for the weary soul to realize that they were leaning against the well the whole time. Truly, how many good things in this world may have gone undone entirely had it not been for a word fitly and kindly spoken at just the right moment.

By encouraging a weary soul, may it be our desire in and through our encouragement that the Lord would increase, and that we would decrease. Let every cup of cold water we give, as with all we do, be done unto the Lord, from whom we will be richly rewarded:

“And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward” (Matthew 10:42).

I did not see that young man in-person for quite some time. And when I did, he was entirely free from cancer. Though we had only spoken a handful of times, he sought me out at a church event one Sunday and thanked me for my letter. With a glowing smile on his face, he told me that it was the encouraging words of the body of Christ, of which my letter was but a drop, that pointed him back time and again to the love and faithfulness of Christ Himself. Well, well, well—is it any surprise that the wellspring of His word should work so?

Dear brother and sister, is there someone in your life that can use a cup of cold water today?

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Photo by Amritanshu Sikdar, Unsplash