A Thirst Only Jesus Can Quench

“A Thirst Only Jesus Can Quench”

John 7:1–13

Preacher: Rev. Mark Bartsch

Kobe Union Church

October 5, 2025

Before we step into John 7, we need to understand something about Jesus’ culture. This chapter takes place during the Feast of Tabernacles—also called the Feast of Booths, or Sukkot. It was one of the three great pilgrimage feasts, meaning that Jewish people within a certain distance of Jerusalem were expected (commanded) to attend. People may have debated how far counted as “mandatory,” but no one debated the seriousness of this celebration, a feast given by the Lord in Leviticus 23.

The Feast had a dual purpose. On one hand, it was a celebration of the fall harvest—(think Thanksgiving). On the other hand, it was a time of remembrance—not to dwell on the hardship of the wilderness years, but to rejoice in God’s faithful provision during that journey.

What’s fascinating is that God instituted this feast in Leviticus to a people who were still wandering in the wilderness—people without homes, farms, or even a harvest to celebrate. Yet God was already pointing them forward to a day when they would have a land and fields. As Jeremiah 29:11 reminds us: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” At the same time, God was calling future generations to look back—to remember that they once lived in tents and temporary shelters, utterly dependent on Him.

This captures one of the great tensions of faith: the “already but not yet.” God had already promised His people a future, yet they were still living in the waiting. It reminds me of that familiar poem, Footprints in the Sand. In it, a man looks back on his life and notices that during the hardest seasons, there was only one set of footprints. He asks the Lord, “Why did You leave me then?” And the Lord replies, “It was then that I carried you.”

God gives us this promise, “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5). Not just in good times, not just in bad times, but all the time. The only time this promise doesn't feel true is when we reject God and walk away from that relationship because we have free will. It doesn’t mean that God will not challenge you on your stuff, but He will be with you.

The Already But Not Yet

Sukkot lasted eight days. The first and the last were days of Sabbath rest, bookending the week with what God calls a “solemn rest”—a contemplative rest set apart for Him. The days in between were filled with celebration: waving palm branches, eating fruit, and rejoicing in the blessings of the harvest.

But here’s the key: they were not to celebrate from the comfort of their permanent homes. Instead, they were to live in temporary shelters (sukkahs) together as a community.

Sukkot was a commemoration of Israel’s time in the wilderness. Let me ask you a quiz question: how long did God intend for Israel to wander in the wilderness?

It wasn’t 40 years. It was supposed to be just two years. The other 38 years were added because of their lack of faith.

Think of it this way: after nearly 400 years in Egypt, God led His people into the desert as a kind of bootcamp. Before soldiers are sent into battle, they first go through training—a time of hardship, discipline, and unity-building. Nobody enjoys bootcamp, but it forges identity and character. That’s what God was doing in the wilderness. During those two years, He gave Moses the Torah—the five books of the Law. It was like a crash course in what it meant to be His chosen, set-apart people.

At the two-year mark, Israel came to a place called Kadesh Barnea (Numbers 13). Moses sent twelve spies into the land God had promised. They returned after 40 days. Ten of them gave a fearful report: “The people are too strong, the walls too high—we have no hope.” Only Joshua and Caleb believed God could give them the land. But the people listened to the ten instead of the two. They lived in fear, not faith. They even threatened to harm Moses if he led them forward. Because of this lack of faith, God extended their wilderness journey by 38 years.

So while most holidays celebrate great victories, Sukkot is different. It’s a feast that remembers Israel’s failure—their unbelief. But at its heart, it doesn’t just highlight their failure; it emphasizes God’s faithfulness. Did God stop feeding His people after they rejected Him? No. Did He stop protecting them? No. Did He stop leading them? No. Did He stop loving them? No. Over and over, the Old Testament tells us the same story: God is faithful even when we are not (2 Timothy 2:13).

Like the Father in the parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15), God was still watching, waiting, and longing for His people to come home. Sukkot reminded Israel that even though they had entered the land, they were still pilgrims at heart—still learning to depend on God.

This lesson about living in temporary tents also reminds me of my own family history…

The Temporary Tent

I think of my grandfather when I think of this holiday. My family comes from Mennonites living in Russia (both sides). Because of religious persecution, they had to flee Russia. They lost everything—farms, homes, and livelihoods. Many lost their lives from Russian soldiers, starvation, and disease in the escape. They slept outdoors and ate what little they had in the brutal cold Russian landscape.

When they finally reached Canada, my grandfather made a decision: he never wanted to eat outside again. For him, eating outside meant remembering that painful journey and loss. So, he disliked picnics. Why eat outside when you had a perfectly good kitchen? But in focusing on the hardship, he missed something. He told me, when I was in seminary, that as much as he wanted to forget everything that happened in their escape from Russia, he also remembers that God was so close to his people in those days. He guided, preserved, and brought them safely to a new home.

And that’s exactly what Sukkot teaches us. The tent is temporary—but God’s presence is permanent. This tent of a life is temporary. God’s promise is permanent.

Paul uses this same picture in 2 Corinthians 5:1: “For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in the heavens, not made with hands.”

It simply is that this world is not our home. I have a passport, and you do too, but this is not my identity—God is. I might live in Japan, but I am on my way to God’s kingdom. Your job, apartment, even your body—these are like tents. Useful now, but not forever. I sometimes feel like a stranger here in Japan. I also feel like a stranger when I go back to North America. I know that I always will be until God calls me to my real home. I guess that is a good thing.

Don’t try to build a permanent kingdom in a temporary world. Last week I talked about the Transfiguration, when Jesus physically shone like the sun and God said, “This is my son, whom I love; in him I am well pleased.” Peter said, “This is great; let us build a shelter here so people can come to us.” Jesus found this so ridiculous that he didn’t even answer him. He calls us to embrace the journey. Live lightly, gratefully, and keep your eyes fixed on the city whose builder and maker is God (Hebrews 11:10).

The Master’s Timing (John 7:1-13)

That is the setting. In this passage, Jesus is stepping into the lion’s den. Literally. John tells us in verse 1, “After this Jesus went about in Galilee. He would not go about in Judea, because the Jews were seeking to kill him.” He knows there is an assassination plot against him.

His half-brothers pressed him to attend the feast. They don't believe in him, as verse 5 states, “For not even his brothers believed in him.” They’re mocking him, saying, “Go to the feast, show Yourself! If you really are who you say you are, go be public!” I am not certain if they are in the plot, but it seems very similar to how Joseph's brothers were plotting against him in the Old Testament.

Jesus answers them with a distinction about time: “My time has not yet come” (v. 6).

There are two main words for time in Greek:

• Chronos: Ordinary, ticking time—a sequence of moments. This is what Jesus’ brothers live by. Their time is always here.

• Kairos: God’s appointed, perfect time—a moment of decisive action. This is what Jesus lives by.

Jesus lived by Kairos. His ministry, his suffering, his cross, his resurrection—all were on the Father’s clock. That’s why He could say, again and again, “My hour has not yet come.”

Maybe you’re waiting right now—for healing, for direction, for breakthrough. Maybe you’re impatient for God to act in a big, public way in your life. Remember, God’s delay is not God’s denial. He is never late, never early, but always on time. We need to trust the Master’s timing.

Jesus eventually did go up to the feast, but not in the public way His brothers demanded. He went quietly, in God’s timing, not theirs (v. 10). He waited until the middle of the feast, after the initial crowds, and then He began to teach in the temple (v. 14).

Now we jump to the climax of the feast. It's the last and greatest day of Sukkot. This is the most important part of the ceremony. The priest would carry water from the Pool of Siloam and pour it out at the altar. This was a dramatic act of remembrance, recalling how God gave water from the rock in the wilderness (also at Kadesh Barnea) and would offer up prayers for rain. Rain meant blessing.

And at that very moment, Jesus stood up and cried out: “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. Whoever believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” (vv. 37-38)

What boldness! He was standing in the very spot where the water ceremony was taking place, and He was essentially saying, "That water points to Me. I am the true source! I am the blessing for those that thirst."

Finding Our True Sustenance

Jesus’s declaration is a profound invitation. He sees our deep, spiritual thirst—the restless longing that this temporary world can never satisfy. The water poured out by the priest was a symbol, a fleeting moment of remembrance and hope. Jesus stepped into that moment and proclaimed that He is the reality to which the symbol pointed. He is the ultimate, living water that doesn't just quench a thirst, but transforms it into a life-giving river flowing out of us.

We are all living in temporary tents, relying on a faithfulness that is much greater than our own. We've been given a promise of eternal life, an invitation to a relationship where God is close, always present, and never abandoning us, even when we fail. That relationship is offered to us through Jesus Christ, the one who satisfies every spiritual need.

As we now prepare our hearts to receive the bread and the cup, let us remember this powerful moment. Jesus's body was broken and His blood was poured out so that we might not just be reminded of God’s faithfulness, but that we might literally take the Living Water into ourselves. Let us come to the table thirsty, ready to be filled, and prepared to carry that river of life out into the world. Let’s pray.

Discussion Questions

  The "Already But Not Yet" Tension: Where do you feel this tension most in your own life or in the life of the church today? How does the Feast of Tabernacles (living in temporary tents) help you manage that tension?

  Failure and God's Faithfulness: Sukkot remembers Israel's failure (their 38 extra years in the wilderness due to unbelief), but ultimately emphasizes God's faithfulness during that time. Can you share a time when your own failure or lack of faith resulted in a difficult path, but where God's sustaining faithfulness was still evident? How does this redefine your understanding of God's love?

  The True Thirst and the True Source: Jesus declares, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink." What kind of "thirst" are you or the people around you trying to quench with temporary things (jobs, status, possessions, etc.)? What does it practically look like to turn away from those temporary sources and come to Jesus, the "living water," this week?