Everyone has a well a hidden place from which we draw when the soul begins to crack, when thirst shows up not in the throat, but in the ache beneath it.
Some reach for the well of work efficiency as identity, achievement as self-worth. But success is a vapor, and no title ever touched the heart like a Jesus does.
Others drink from romance not love, but the illusion of being chosen for just a moment. It tastes sweet, but leaves a hollow aftertaste like sugar without substance.
Many scroll their way into temporary numbness, sipping distraction to avoid the truth: We are not okay. And pixels can’t hold what eternity is asking for.
We sip and sip Different addictions and yet the thirst persists. Because shallow wells were never meant to hold the weight of a soul made for glory.
You were made for more than survival, more than noise, more than fleeting highs to quiet eternal questions.
There is a Well ancient and alive, flowing not with answers, but with Presence.
He said, “If anyone is thirsty, let them come to Me and drink.” Not religion. Not performance. Not a God far off, but a Christ who knelt in dust, who bled beside thieves, who thirsted Himself so we never have to again.
He is the Living Water
And when you come to Him really come you’ll find not everything fixed, but something filled. A deep thirst, finally met by a deeper Love.
30,000 Days.
