Re-dig the Wells
Genesis 26:18
[18] And Isaac dug again the wells of water that had been dug in the days of Abraham his father, which the Philistines had stopped after the death of Abraham. And he gave them the names that his father had given them. (ESV)
I’ve been thinking about well-digging lately. This hasn’t been on my mind in terms of a career shift, but rather as a theological principle. Consider the passage above.
Isaac came upon wells that Abraham, his father (and ours) had dug. After Abraham’s death, the enemies of Abraham (and of God) had filled them with dirt.
Imagine yourself as Isaac for a moment. Your father was a great man. Everyone knew his name. He had been called out of a foreign land as a pagan man and commissioned for God’s covenant purposes to bring blessing to the world through his family lineage. During your famine-prompted wanderings, you come across an old site. In the ground you find the remnants of wells that your father had dug. In the past, they had served a great purpose in providing much-needed hydration for Abraham and his livestock. You can make out the circle of a well’s mouth, but instead of water, the hole has been crudely filled in with dirt and rocks. The Philistines did this. After your father died, they skulked in and stopped them up, halting the wells’ functionality and productivity. More than just stopping the flow of water, the destruction of the wells sent a message.
Abraham is gone. His legacy is nothing. His prosperity and ways are forgotten.
What’s a son to do? The easiest option is to conclude that maybe the Philistines are right. Maybe Abraham was too big for his britches and the way forward means we need to forget what’s past and look ahead. Maybe I should just move along. Maybe.
Maybe not. Isaac started moving the dirt and shifting the stones. With whatever manpower he had at his disposal, he reversed the damage done by the Philistines and opened the wells again. Abraham’s wells. And he didn’t give them new names, claiming some novel ownership over them. He named them what his father had named them. It turns out that Isaac knew the promises God had made to his dad. Isaac knew that the promise would come through his own line. Isaac knew that it was better to fear God than another clan of scoundrels. Isaac knew that, in God’s story, he was the good guy and the Philistines were the bad guys. Just as the Philistines sent a message by stopping up the wells, Isaac sent an equally powerful message by reopening them.
We aren't going anywhere.
Our God isn’t going anywhere.
My dad was right about most things.
My house is hooked up to Bayview Water and Sewer, so I won’t be applying this text in any kind of immediate, well-digging way. My shovel is safe today. But this passage has got me thinking: where are the stopped-up wells? Where have we let the Philistines take too much away from us and our godly heritage? Where can I re-dig and call out the ancient names?
About what was my dad right (and I’m just now coming to realize it)? What if the way forward is the way back? I survey the landscape, and I see a few immediate wells brimming over with soil, and I know where to dig.
Reading the Bible, going to church, and praying really is the remedy for most of life’s ailments. Dad was right.
The Philistines want to stop up the well of marriage and family. But we call marriage what God calls it - good. So we start digging.
And we insist on the oldest of ideas, that guys should marry gals and make more little guys and gals. Let’s get to work.
They’ve condoned murder and renamed lawbreaking in its vilest of forms as a “choice.” We call it by its old name - sin - and urge repentance while crying for justice.
They call themselves by a new name - “god” - while we unearth the well of ancient and unchanging worship of the only one deserving of that title. It doesn’t belong to them. It belongs to him.
Those are all big wells. But there are smaller ones on the outskirts that matter, too.
Consider these:
It really is best to eat supper together around the table.
Young men should learn to work hard.
Families should pray together.
Domestic duties are glorious.
Keeping your word matters.
The enemies of God are seeking to stamp out the remnants of Christendom. Cathedrals-turned-coffeehouses litter the landscape but are still undeniably testaments to what our God has done and will do again. He isn’t going anywhere.
Search the wilderness, friends. Find the old wells. Call them by the ancient names. Bring a shovel.
[18] And Isaac dug again the wells of water that had been dug in the days of Abraham his father, which the Philistines had stopped after the death of Abraham. And he gave them the names that his father had given them. (ESV)
I’ve been thinking about well-digging lately. This hasn’t been on my mind in terms of a career shift, but rather as a theological principle. Consider the passage above.
Isaac came upon wells that Abraham, his father (and ours) had dug. After Abraham’s death, the enemies of Abraham (and of God) had filled them with dirt.
Imagine yourself as Isaac for a moment. Your father was a great man. Everyone knew his name. He had been called out of a foreign land as a pagan man and commissioned for God’s covenant purposes to bring blessing to the world through his family lineage. During your famine-prompted wanderings, you come across an old site. In the ground you find the remnants of wells that your father had dug. In the past, they had served a great purpose in providing much-needed hydration for Abraham and his livestock. You can make out the circle of a well’s mouth, but instead of water, the hole has been crudely filled in with dirt and rocks. The Philistines did this. After your father died, they skulked in and stopped them up, halting the wells’ functionality and productivity. More than just stopping the flow of water, the destruction of the wells sent a message.
Abraham is gone. His legacy is nothing. His prosperity and ways are forgotten.
What’s a son to do? The easiest option is to conclude that maybe the Philistines are right. Maybe Abraham was too big for his britches and the way forward means we need to forget what’s past and look ahead. Maybe I should just move along. Maybe.
Maybe not. Isaac started moving the dirt and shifting the stones. With whatever manpower he had at his disposal, he reversed the damage done by the Philistines and opened the wells again. Abraham’s wells. And he didn’t give them new names, claiming some novel ownership over them. He named them what his father had named them. It turns out that Isaac knew the promises God had made to his dad. Isaac knew that the promise would come through his own line. Isaac knew that it was better to fear God than another clan of scoundrels. Isaac knew that, in God’s story, he was the good guy and the Philistines were the bad guys. Just as the Philistines sent a message by stopping up the wells, Isaac sent an equally powerful message by reopening them.
We aren't going anywhere.
Our God isn’t going anywhere.
My dad was right about most things.
My house is hooked up to Bayview Water and Sewer, so I won’t be applying this text in any kind of immediate, well-digging way. My shovel is safe today. But this passage has got me thinking: where are the stopped-up wells? Where have we let the Philistines take too much away from us and our godly heritage? Where can I re-dig and call out the ancient names?
About what was my dad right (and I’m just now coming to realize it)? What if the way forward is the way back? I survey the landscape, and I see a few immediate wells brimming over with soil, and I know where to dig.
Reading the Bible, going to church, and praying really is the remedy for most of life’s ailments. Dad was right.
The Philistines want to stop up the well of marriage and family. But we call marriage what God calls it - good. So we start digging.
And we insist on the oldest of ideas, that guys should marry gals and make more little guys and gals. Let’s get to work.
They’ve condoned murder and renamed lawbreaking in its vilest of forms as a “choice.” We call it by its old name - sin - and urge repentance while crying for justice.
They call themselves by a new name - “god” - while we unearth the well of ancient and unchanging worship of the only one deserving of that title. It doesn’t belong to them. It belongs to him.
Those are all big wells. But there are smaller ones on the outskirts that matter, too.
Consider these:
It really is best to eat supper together around the table.
Young men should learn to work hard.
Families should pray together.
Domestic duties are glorious.
Keeping your word matters.
The enemies of God are seeking to stamp out the remnants of Christendom. Cathedrals-turned-coffeehouses litter the landscape but are still undeniably testaments to what our God has done and will do again. He isn’t going anywhere.
Search the wilderness, friends. Find the old wells. Call them by the ancient names. Bring a shovel.
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