Psalm 36:9 (NASB 1995)
“For with You is the fountain of life; in Your light we see light.”
Jeremiah 2:13 (NASB 1995)
“For My people have committed two evils: They have abandoned Me, the fountain of living waters, to carve out for themselves cisterns, broken cisterns that do not hold water.”
Devotional
There is a wellspring in God that never runs dry. His life, pure and eternal, flows freely to all who come to Him. Psalm 36:9 calls us to see God not as one source among many, but as the only fountain—the origin of all true vitality, meaning, and light. In Him, life begins, and in His light, we perceive all things rightly.
Yet how easily we wander, digging our own cisterns—pursuits, desires, self-made solutions—only to find them cracked and empty. Jeremiah’s lament is as true now as it was then: to forsake the fountain is to embrace futility. The soul’s thirst cannot be quenched by any substitute.
But the fountain still flows. God’s offer of life remains. He calls us to return—not to shame, but to drink deeply of His grace, His truth, and His Spirit. In Him is abundant, overflowing life. Let your soul be drawn back to the source.
The Stillness Maggie Found
Maggie had spent all forty-three of her years in the same town where she was born. Folks around there used to joke that if you blinked, you’d miss it. One main street, a couple of stop signs, and a whole lot of cornfields stretching out like golden blankets on either side. People waved when they passed you, even if they didn’t know your name. It was that kind of place.
She worked at the corner bakery, rising before the sun to shape dough with hands that knew the rhythm by heart. The smell of yeast and fresh coffee filled the little shop long before the first customer arrived. Some mornings, she’d hum an old hymn while she worked, but more often than not lately, there was only silence. The kind that clings to you.
Life hadn’t been unkind to Maggie. It just had a way of wearing her down, one quiet day at a time. Her parents were gone now, the house she grew up in sitting still and lonely on Maple Street. Friends had come and gone, some chasing bigger dreams in bigger towns, others just drifting away. She stayed. Always stayed. Maybe because she didn’t know where else she’d belong.
She still went to church, of course. Every Sunday, same pew, third from the back on the left. She’d shake hands, smile politely, and sing the hymns, though not quite as loud as she used to. The words felt distant, like echoes of something she once believed but wasn’t sure she felt anymore. Prayer became more of a habit than a hunger.
She wasn’t bitter—just tired. Spiritually tired.
It was a Sunday morning like any other when something shifted. She’d come in late, slipping into the last row. She figured no one would notice, and she could slip out quick when it was over. The pastor’s voice was steady, familiar. He read from the Psalms, something about God’s love and faithfulness. She half-listened, her eyes wandering over the stained-glass windows, the worn wooden beams.
Then it came.
Psalm 36:9. “For with You is the fountain of life; in Your light we see light.”
Something about those words cracked open the part of her that had long been sealed shut. She felt it—not a loud voice, not a sudden revelation, just a quiet ache. The kind that lets you know something’s been missing.
Fountain of life.
She closed her eyes, trying to remember the last time she’d truly felt alive inside. Not just moving through the motions, but really alive. She’d filled her days with all sorts of things—early mornings, busy hands, polite conversations—but the well had run dry, and she hadn’t even noticed.
That afternoon, she walked home slower than usual, the crisp autumn air wrapping around her like a shawl. Leaves crunched beneath her feet, and the sky stretched wide and pale blue overhead. When she reached her porch, she didn’t go inside right away. She sat on the steps, hands clasped, heart heavy.
“Lord, I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. “But I’m thirsty.”
It wasn’t a fancy prayer, but it was honest.
That evening, she left the TV off, let her phone sit silent on the kitchen counter. She opened her old Bible, the one with pages soft from use, though untouched for longer than she cared to admit. She read slow, not rushing, letting the words sink in.
There was no thunder, no sudden burst of joy. Just a stillness.
But it was enough.
Day by day, Maggie made room for the stillness. She’d rise before the bakery called for her, just to sit by the window with a cup of coffee and a Psalm. She’d walk through the fields after work, listening—not for answers, but for presence. She wasn’t trying to fix anything, just to find Him again. Or maybe let Him find her.
She didn’t tell anyone at first. It felt too tender, too new. But something changed in her, slow and steady like the seasons turning. She smiled more—not because life got easier, but because she wasn’t carrying it alone anymore. The light returned, not all at once, but like the dawn—soft and sure.
The fountain wasn’t far off or hard to reach. It had been there all along, waiting.
In church, she started singing a little louder, praying a little deeper. She still sat in the same pew, but now she leaned in, hungry for every word, every glimpse of that light.
One morning, an old friend stopped by the bakery.
“You seem different, Maggie,” he said, biting into a warm cinnamon roll.
She just smiled, wiping flour from her hands.
“Guess I finally figured out where to draw water,” she said.
Reflection
Maggie’s story is not one of grand miracles or dramatic turns. It’s about rediscovery—the kind that many of us need but don’t always seek. The fountain of life isn’t something we strive for, but Someone we return to. When we stop long enough to listen, to thirst, to be still, we find that the Source was never far. Just waiting. Ready to pour life into our weary hearts again.
Key Takeaway
Only in God do we find life that truly satisfies. Everything else is a broken cistern.
Practical Application
Identify the “cisterns” in your life—places you’ve sought fulfillment apart from God. Confess them, and intentionally return to the Lord this week. Spend time daily in His Word and in prayer, not out of duty, but to draw near to the Fountain of Life.
Short Prayer
Father, forgive me for seeking life apart from You. You alone are my source, my light, and my strength. Draw me back to You, that I may drink deeply of Your presence and be renewed. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Closing Thought
No matter how long you’ve wandered, the fountain still flows. Come and drink.
Quote
“To thirst for God is to live; to drink from His hand is to be satisfied.”