A word for the thirsty soul who wants more than just to say no

There is a well.

Not the kind the world draws from—not ambition, not approval, not pleasure, not even comfort dressed up as calling.

No, this well is ancient. Eternal.

It flows from the throne of God and the Lamb, and its streams run through the wilderness of this world like a secret river.

And I am invited.

Not to come strong. Not to come full. But to come thirsty.

Yes, I feel the pull of the world. My flesh cries out like a child for sugar—quick, easy, fleeting.

But I’ve tasted that water before.

It dries my tongue, bloats my soul, and leaves me emptier than before.

So now, I come again to the well.

And not because I’m strong. I come because I’m willing. Willing to believe that as I empty, He will fill. That as I say no to the illusions, I am saying yes to the Reality.

The Living One.

Christ in me, the hope of glory.

Saying no is hard. But saying yes—yes to Jesus, yes to the Father’s love, yes to the Spirit’s filling—is beautiful.

I do not come to punish my flesh. I come to feed my spirit.

To be nourished by the Bread of Life.

To drink deeply from the stream that flows from the temple—not built by man, but by God.

My soul does not want starvation—it wants fulfillment.

So I lift my eyes—not in discipline, but in desire.

I look past the idols that glitter and whisper,

and I gaze upon my Creator,

the One who formed me, who sees me, who satisfies me.

I am not saying no to life—I am saying yes to it.

This is not about willpower.

It’s about worship.

This is not about rejection of the world.

It’s about beholding the glory of the Lord.

And the more I gaze, the more I change.

From glory to glory.

From striving to surrender.

From longing to love.

So I will go to the well again today.

Not because I must, but because I can.

Because He is waiting there.

And He always gives more than I imagined.