Ps 133 talks of the blessing of unity, using two analogies to describe this blessing. It is likened to the oil which ran down Aaron’s beard and collar, that anointing oil which symbolises the Holy Spirit and which set Aaron apart as high priest, and to the dew of Hermon (signifying all that is refreshing, quickening and invigorating.) Individuals who are united draw fresh energy and are like brothers dwelling together in harmony. Where such unity exists, God is pleased to bestow His blessing.

Mount Hermon was in the north of Israel, so for its dew to have an effect on Mount Zion in the south indicates the power of unity. It is interesting to note that after all these psalms journeying up to Jerusalem, this psalm talks of oil and dew flowing downwards. Ultimately, we are all dependent on God for blessing. He is the One who unites us and who blesses us. As we draw near to Him, He draws near to us (James 4:4) As we are centred around God – who draws disparate individuals together and makes us into the family of God – He unites us and blesses us.

The ark of the covenant was the symbol of God’s presence. The ark was a wooden chest, covered in gold, which contained the two stone tablets of the Ten Commandments as well as Aaron’s rod (Numbers 17:1-13) and a pot of manna (Ex 16:4). When the Israelites were in the wilderness and travelling on only when the cloud by day or pillar of fire by night moved, the ark was transported by the Levites who carried it on poles; because the ark symbolised God’s presence, no one was allowed to touch it. God was so holy, so utterly different from sinful mankind, that no person could touch the ark and live; there was to be reverence, awe and obedience in how the ark was handled.

The ark played an important role as the Israelites crossed the River Jordan to possess the land of Canaan. During the crossing, the river grew dry as soon as the feet of the priests carrying the ark touched its waters and it remained dry until the priests left the river with the ark after the people had passed over (Josh 3:15-17, Josh 4:10, 11, 18). In the Battle of Jericho, the ark was carried around the city once a day for seven days, preceded by the armed men and seven priests sounding seven trumpets of rams’ horns (Josh 6:4-15). On the seventh day, the seven priests sounding the trumpets before the ark went round the city seven times and this time they gave a great shout and the walls of Jericho fell down flat (Josh 6:19-20). Later on, we see Joshua praying and lamenting before the ark (Josh 7:6-9); we see him reading the law to the people at the site where the ark was situated (Josh 8:33).

Later on, we see Phineas (grandson of Aaron) looking after the ark which the people would consult before battle, symbolising their dependence on God for guidance (Judges 20:26-28) and it was later moved from Bethel to Shiloh, where Eli’s sons looked after it. We then come to read one of the darkest periods of Israel’s history, when the Philistines captured the ark of the covenant and took it back with them (1 Sam 4-5).

David’s restoration of the ark to Jerusalem forms the theme of Ps 132. (Ps 132:2-5, 8-9) David was desperate for God’s presence, and returning the ark to Jerusalem for him signified the nearness of the Lord. The result of God’s presence being there and David’s obedience was God’s blessing (see Ps 132:15-17). When God is with us and we are obedient to Him, we can count on His blessing and provision and consequently are filled with awe and worship.

The river Ezekiel describes (Ezek 47:1-12) is a river of abundant, teeming life. It’s a place where life can grow and healing can occur. As such, it is a picture of the overflowing life that God offers us.

Many of us live life with God added on as an afterthought. We want a comfortable, safe God who will do whatever we want, whenever we want, and who will not make demands of us. The God of the Bible is not like this. He is a wild, wild river. His love is like a raging sea. Rich Mullins wrote about a ‘wildness in God’s mercy’ and ‘the reckless raging fury/ That they call the love of God.’ (‘The Love of God’) When we read the Bible, we see a God who is jealous for us, who is passionate, a God who is able to do miracles and who speaks to people and uses them in ways that cannot be explained away by science or reason. He is a God whose heart yearns for people who will not draw back from Him, but who will plunge into the water and swim with Him.

We need more of God. We need Him to fill us up and send us out. We need to be broken by God so that we take off our own clothes, our ways of ‘doing God’ and let Him lead us afresh into deep water, where we swim in life-giving, thirst-quenching, Spirit-filled water and as we do that, in the power of God’s Spirit, bring abundant fruit into the lives of those who desperately need Him. Religion is not the answer. God as a convenient extra is not the answer. But God Himself, the spring of living water, is.

Learning to swim is a skill most of us acquire in childhood. It’s not easy: having mastered the skill of walking, we have to, in essence, learn a completely different way of moving in water, because water is a very different medium to terra firma. Legs and arms have to be coordinated in movements that are very different to walking and we have to learn to trust the water to keep us afloat, learn how to breathe differently (or we end up choking and swallowing water!) and learn how to tread water and float for the times when we have to rest. Learning to swim in the safety of a swimming pool is different to swimming in rivers or the sea, where currents and tides all affect our abilities.

When I was learning to swim as a child, I used to practise at home, balancing on a dining-room chair and desperately trying to master the ‘frogs’ legs’ needed for breaststroke. I found that no matter how hard I practised, I could not actually swim unless I entered the water.

So often, we are afraid to enter the river of God, afraid of the living water He provides. We hold back, believing that God can speak to other people, but not to us, believing that He can work miracles through other people, but not through us. We hold back out of fear: fear of getting it wrong, fear of failure, fear of other people’s ridicule and scorn, fear of looking foolish. Yet God calls us, like Peter, out onto the sea, to put off our old self and put on the new clothes He provides (see Eph 4:22-24, Col 3:8-10). He calls us to a radically different way of living. Living by faith means learning to swim in the river of God; living by sight means walking with the earth firmly beneath our feet.

As we take in God’s mercy and love and revel in His forgiveness and goodness, as we learn to be buoyed up by His presence with us in the everyday routines of life as well as in the highs and lows of emergencies and celebrations, we find that we are then in a position to give those things out to others. We are enabled, by the living water God’s Holy Spirit has brought into our lives, to minister to others. Phil Wickham has captured this idea far more poetically than I can. In his song, ‘Wild River’, he reminds us that ‘there is a fountain that never runs dry, forever flows with water of life.’ He reminds us, straight from the verses in Ezekiel 47, that ‘where Your river runs, everything lives’ and ‘where Your river goes, we’ll never thirst again.’ He talks about being swept away in the limitless ocean of God’s grace, about drawing from the well of God’s goodness and drinking from the water of life. But he also reminds us that the consequence of this is ‘Your grace, like a flood, pouring out of me.’  Grace. Not retaliation. Not anger. Not selfishness. Not the old self. The new life, with God’s character manifest in us. Grace pouring out of us, because grace has been poured into us. We swim; we draw from the wells of salvation, because Christ has made this new life possible through His death and resurrection. All we have to do is plunge in to His life.

Tonight’s sermon, continuing the ‘Wells of Salvation’ series, looked at Ezekiel 47:1-12, and the river of God. This river leads to abundant life, with plants, fruit and fish flourishing all year round (Ezek 47:9-10,12) and is a symbol of the abundant life Jesus promised us. (John 10:10) This abundant life is not about material possessions or temporal happiness, but is connected to God, the spring of all living water and originator of life (see also John 17:3). Abundant life is not found in pleasure or entertainment, in relationships or sex, in sport or other hobbies, but in God, who loves to give us good and perfect gifts. (Ps 84:11, Js 1:17)

In order to receive this abundant life, Ezekiel talks of water flowing from the temple of God (symbolising His presence.) The water is described initially as trickling, then as ankle-deep, knee-deep, waist-deep and finally too deep to walk through.

So often, we are like the toddler who enjoys paddling: we like getting our feet wet, but also like to retreat to the safety of the shore. At first, grace seems endlessly exciting and wonderful, but living by faith is a risky business and we are more familiar with doing things our own way. This is what happened to the Galatians. Paul says, ‘After beginning by means of the Spirit, are you now trying to finish by means of the flesh?’ (Gal 3:3) 

While ever we are in water that is ankle-deep, knee-deep or waist-deep, we are in control, our feet still rooted on the ground. God wants us to plunge into the wild, wild river and learn to swim, learning to live by faith and not by sight. (2 Cor 5:7)

Learning to swim is not easy, for it involves a new way of movement, learning to trust the water and cooperate with it instead of resisting it and insisting on moving as we would on land. But if we want to move in spiritual realms and see the miraculous happen, we have to stop doing things our way and live in the Spirit, being people who have turned our backs on our own ways of doing things in order to embrace God’s (see Eph 4:22-24). There is so much more of God to discover and explore. Let’s learn to swim in His river and trust Him to lead us, guide us and direct us in the ways of the Bible, so we see the miraculous happen and experience the power of God in our everyday lives.

We all have different temperaments: some of us are so phlegmatic and laid-back that it’s hard to tell if we’re happy or sad, angry or calm (a little bit like the uniform a Storm Trooper wears, giving no indication of mood!)

Others are as volatile as a rocket, losing their tempers easily over the slightest thing, but whatever our temperament, we all have to deal with the issue of anger at some point in our lives.

Moses faced this issue in Ex 32:1-24. While he was receiving the Ten Commandments and instructions from God on how to live and serve Him, the people of Israel and Aaron were making a golden calf to worship. God’s anger burned against the Israelites because of their unfaithfulness and sin, but Moses intervened and interceded for them. When he returned to the people and saw what they had done, it was as if God’s red-hot anger was transferred to him (and he smashed the tablets on which God had written the Ten Commandments.) Sometimes we are angry as God is angry, but all too often, our anger is fuelled by personal pride or hurt. Paul and Barnabas had such a sharp disagreement over John Mark’s reliability that they parted company (Acts 15:36-39). Compromise was not reached in this situation.

In Eph 4:25-32, we are warned not to sin in our anger and then urged to get rid of all rage and anger. This may seem contradictory, but we have to understand the different kinds of anger there can be.

Anger that is controlled is like the fire that powers our central heating boilers or powers our cars. Controlled anger can achieve positive things; uncontrolled anger – like uncontrolled fire – can have devastating consequences. We need to ask if our anger is constructive or consuming.

The source of our anger is also important. James 1:19-20 reminds us that we need to be slow to anger and that man’s anger rarely achieves righteous results. So often, we have to ask ourselves why we are angry. If it is simply because we are wounded or caring about our own honour, we need to be quick to let go of the anger and forgive. Moses’ anger was righteous because he cared more about God’s honour than his own.

The result of our anger is also worth considering. When Moses was angry, a nation was spared. When Paul and Barnabas were angry, a relationship was broken which took years to mend. So often, we have to be careful not to sin in our anger, lashing out indiscriminately and tearing people down, but we also need to be prepared to feel the anger God feels and to care about His glory.