In 1 Samuel, we read of David’s desperate flight from Saul, who relentlessly pursued him, seeking his life. As David fled into the wilderness of Maon, he encountered a landscape of barrenness—dust, dry rock, and the oppressive weight of the desert sun. Here and there, an occasional tree or bush clung to life in the arid ground. The heat was merciless, draining every ounce of strength from David’s body, yet he had to keep moving. His thirst grew, but there was no relief. Perhaps he came across one of Nabal’s cisterns—pits dug to catch the winter rains—only to find a stagnant pool or a mud hole. Again and again, the wells ran dry. He had to keep going. After a narrow escape from Saul, David finally found refuge in the strongholds of Engedi (1 Samuel 23:29).
Can you relate to David’s exhaustion? Have you ever felt like life’s burdens are pressing you forward, sapping your strength, leaving you desperate for a place of rest? The weight of responsibilities, struggles, and disappointments can be overwhelming. You need a sanctuary. You need refreshment. Yet every source you turn to is empty—a mud hole, a broken cistern. Like David, you need an Engedi.
Even today, the wilderness of Judea remains stark and unforgiving. Among its ruins, one can still find the foundations of ancient buildings and cisterns, remnants of past attempts to store life-giving water. Yet in the heart of this desolation lies the oasis of Engedi—a lush, green refuge that stands in stunning contrast to the barren landscape. Solomon himself compared the beauty and fruitfulness of Engedi’s vineyards to his beloved (Song of Solomon 1:14). It is a place of shade and cool waters, a sanctuary for the weary. At its heart, a spring flows from the rock, creating a waterfall that feeds Nahal David (David’s Stream). This oasis is a powerful picture of a greater promise: the living water that flows from the Rock of our Salvation.
Jesus echoed this promise during the Feast of Tabernacles, where the high priest poured out water from the Pool of Siloam as the people recited Isaiah 12:3: “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.” In that moment, Jesus stood and declared, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him” (John 7:37-38). The offering of water on the altar was merely a shadow of what was to come—the Holy Spirit, poured out to quench our deepest thirst.
David could have abandoned Engedi. He could have walked away from the oasis and returned to the desolation of the wilderness. It seems unthinkable, and yet, isn’t that exactly what we do? God lamented through the prophet Jeremiah, “My people have committed two sins: They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water” (Jeremiah 2:13). Time and again, we reject the life-giving presence of God in favor of empty, man-made solutions—pride, self-sufficiency, fleeting pleasures, and worldly distractions. The desert consumes it all, leaving us dry, weary, and unfulfilled.
But the invitation remains: “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy?” (Isaiah 55:1-2). The call is clear. Turn away from the broken cisterns. Turn to the living water. Peter urges us, “Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord” (Acts 3:19).
I have seen people stand at the water’s edge, hesitant, believing they are unworthy of the refreshment God offers. They sip cautiously, as if fearing they might take too much. But imagine David arriving at the pools of Engedi—parched, exhausted, desperate. Would he have merely dipped his fingers in the water? No. He would have plunged in, drinking deeply, letting the cool streams revive his soul.
You, too, are invited to drink deeply. To immerse yourself in the presence of God. To dwell in Engedi. Will you come?