| March of 2006 six found me exhausted and overwhelmed. Two of my daughters had come home from Haiti only three months before bringing the total number of my brood from three to five. My oldest child was not yet 11 years old.
The younger three were so close in age, we jokingly called them “the triplets''. They ran like a litter of puppies, a constant blur of motion and energy. At times, they would fight over me. They were all small, all needy, and they all wanted my arms. They could enter an orderly room and leave it in shambles in a matter of moments. Their combined energy was staggering. There was no way I could ever keep up and I began to consider my role one of “managing the chaos”. Everywhere I went with them, I heard the same thing from strangers over and over- “Boy, you sure have your hands full.”
Oh, yes. I certainly did. Each of my five children was processing the post adoption adjustment period differently and I was running at breakneck speed to meet their individual, very real needs. Often, when I would tuck one of my adopted daughters in for the night, she would pour out her grief and sorrow to me. It seemed the darkness reminded her of all she had lost. We would whisper long in Creole. Her big brown eyes, rimmed with tears, would search my face for answers that all too often I was powerless to give. At last, I would kiss her good night and close her door softly behind me, feeling so much less than adequate.
I was not a perfect parent by any means, but I was giving it all I had.
I knew I needed to take steps to “refill” my resources but at times, it was just impossible because of my circumstances. I was absolutely exhausted not only physically but emotionally and spiritually as well. In this dry and barren wilderness I longed for comfort and in my need I dug for myself what God describes in Jeremiah 2:13 as a “broken cistern” that could not “hold water”.
Now, I know human nature and at this moment, you dear reader, really want to know what my “cistern” was. I am not going to tell you. I will tell you this- it was not anything horrifyingly dramatic. As a matter of fact, a lot of people would think it was nothing at all. It would not rate very high on “The Sin List”. You know what I am talking about: That list Christians like to keep. We like to rate sins according to just how “sinful” we think they are. So, if a group of Christians were rating “cisterns” they would put things at the top like Crystal-Meth, or pornography. Next in line would be drunkenness, or illicit sexual relationships.
The problem with this concept is that God doesn’t “rate” cisterns. They are all sin to Him. The cisterns Jeremiah chapter two is talking about are sinful because they represent the child of God removing his or her dependence away from God and substituting something else. It is us kicking God out of his place and creating something else to go there instead.
Sounds a lot like idolatry doesn’t it?
And God won’t tolerate it.
So, the Sunday morning came when God met me and pointed out the cistern in my hand. He found me in the center section of my church auditorium about six rows back standing with one of my daughters in my arms. God often chooses to speak to me during worship. It seems, that is when all of the “junk” is lifted away so I can hear him.
“Hello, my child. What are you holding there?”
“Uhhhh... holding?”
“Yes, that thing there in your hand. It seems to be cracked. It is leaking all over your shoes.”
Whimpering, I replied, “Please don’t make me give it up Father. It comforts me. I am so tired and it allows me to escape for awhile. I have almost nothing for myself. Please let me keep it.”
Very tenderly, quietly he whispered “I can be all of that for you and more! There is no need to be empty and needy. Let me fill the void. In my presence is fullness of joy and at my right hand are pleasures forever more.”
With lip quivering with the emotion that He would love me so well and hand shaking with the battle between the flesh and the Spirit, I looked down at my cistern. Then, I looked up at the Lover of My Soul. Suddenly, it seemed like a pretty lame substitute.
“Here, Jesus. I don’t think I really need this anymore.”
You see, God loves us too much to let us keep our cisterns. He knows that we are blinded to the chains of bondage they weave around our lives. He seeks to align our hearts to his, obliterating all idolatry that holds us captive. He cannot bear to see his children thirsting with ‘broken cisterns that hold no water’ clutched in their hands. He longs to lift the veil of humanity from our eyes that we might see as he sees. He will accept nothing less for his child than the abundant life that comes from walking in intimate communion with him.
We fall into the practice of fashioning our cisterns so easily! In times of need, the child of God must consciously draw near to the Father. If we do not, the flesh will automatically seek comfort in a leaky cistern.
Are you thirsty today? Don’t pick up that cistern. It will never satisfy. Turn your heart to Jesus instead. | 
