Back in the late seventies I drove for a company located just west of Chicago’s downtown area. It was probably for a good year or two that my quitting time was somewhere between eight and nine p.m. There was one summer during those days that was as hot a summer as any I could remember. Most nights, instead of going straight home from work, I’d take a ride to the lake. There I’d usually do one of three things. Sometimes I’d just take a stroll through Grant Park. At other times, being as hot as it was, I’d simply jump in the lake and go for a swim. Yes, it was illegal to be in the water after dark, and that also meant no lifeguard. But I wasn’t always in the habit of exercising a lot of sense back then, and being a rather new Christian I still had much to learn. There was a third thing however that I use to love to do. That was to just go and hang around Buckingham Fountain for a while. Of all the attractions Chicagoland has to offer, it has always been my favorite, even from the time I was a young boy. I think that fountains in general can render a sense of peace, and even joy. But none brighten my spirit like Buckingham.
One night as I stood before the fountain something happened that I’ll never forget. If my years surpass those of Methuselah’s, even then I’d remember the night of which I’m about to tell. It began like many nights there. I was having an enjoyable time. I watched while children ran and played; listened to sounds of delight from those nearby as the fountain’s color schemes changed; then there was always the gentle lake breeze to cool and refresh. Everything was pretty much the norm, except for what would occur in just a few short minutes. It all began with the loss of water pressure which would commence each night somewhere around ten o’clock. It would take some time for the flow to come to a complete stop. Still, in the meanwhile, the crowd would begin dispersing while at some point in the shutdown the fountain’s lights would go off. But on this particular evening I suddenly had a peculiar notion. Of all the times I had been to the fountain, I thought, never was I the very last one to leave. I was determined to stand there before it until there wasn’t a single solitary soul left but me. It probably took a good fifteen to twenty minutes before that happened, though for a short time I could still hear their voices, the last of the stragglers making their way out of the park. Their sounds grew more and more faint until finally I stood before the fountain in a silence and a darkness that were unlike any I had known. It was a silence and a darkness that seemed to want to speak. As I continued gazing upon the rather sizeable structure it began to take on a very sad appearance to me. Then it was but moments and I actually began feeling like I was no longer beholding the fountain, but the fountain was beholding me. I was now starting to think that this was more than what I’d bargained for when I decided to be the last to leave. Then it happened. I heard no voice, yet it was as though the fountain spoke. It was as if it had said to me, “Where are they now? Where did they all go? When my waters flowed, how they all gathered around me. When my colors were shown to them, how they were amazed, and wanted always to remain with me. And how much I loved them. And how I loved for the children to run and play before me. But now that my waters have ceased they have all gone their own way. And now that they have witnessed my shining colors turn to darkness, amazement has left them, and they have all returned to their former states. And what about you? Will you go also?”
Immediately following this, I am to this day certain that the Spirit spoke. And what He said to me was that I had just witnessed the three year ministry of our Saviour upon the earth. He began bringing to mind how the ministry of our Lord started out with a bang - an eye-opening miracle in a town called Cana. From there it was one powerful phenomenon after the other. Soon, and great works of wonder couldn’t be counted. It was a display of heaven’s love and mercy like the world had never seen, nor has seen since. The Fountain’s springs gushed forth with a fury, and by His Father was He cloaked with all the colors of the rainbow. Surely healing was in His hands, and deliverance upon His lips.
Now there came a day quite unexpected by the people. Suddenly it seemed that waters that were once vivacious were beginning to lose their strength, while the light of the Fountain was also starting to dim. Then it wasn’t long before His healing springs flowed no more and darkness had settled in upon Him. The night had come, even as the Fountain said it would. And little by little all the people began departing from His presence. The Fountain was alone. Never was a man so alone as He was on that day. But in truth this had always been His lot, for there were none that really understood Him. However now there came to Him a forlornness that was unlike anything He had ever experienced, a heaviness of soul such as He had never felt. And what was the cause of it? It was because the time had arrived for even His Father to abandon Him. Going back to before the dawn of the worlds, He had not known the absence of the Father. But more than this it had now behooved His God to lay upon Him the rod of His chastening. This was for the great load of men’s rebellions that was put upon Him, in which He Himself took no part. Yet for this He was grievously stricken, battered and bruised, until a great debt was fully paid. And in the midst of deep sorrow, and forsaken by all, judgment was carried out until His spirit was released.
It was not the nails nor the spear, not the thorns nor the lashes. It wasn’t the beatings with fists. It wasn’t the slow and suffocating death. Neither was it the shame and humiliation which no doubt took a terrible toll on Him that day. As much as all these things made for unspeakable sufferings, they were not the cause of His deepest pain and anguish. His greatest travail stemmed from something more spiritual in nature, something far beyond what the Roman soldiers could ever inflict upon Him. It was the fact that He was cut off from His God, turned out by the Father. He who is Light and lights up all creation shined not on the Son, but gave Him over to darkness, while all heaven and earth fled from His presence. It was in this state of utter abandonment that He hung upon the tree. Still, He believed that in the end His spirit would ascend to the highest heaven, and this in fullness of glory.
Our Lord and friend, despite all that He suffered, never ceased being God incarnate. Sin then, though it was able to be set upon Him, could never be found within Him. It was therefore not possible for any grave to hold this Champion of Adam’s seed. And so three days after His expiration, He simply took up His life again. The Fountain was flowing once more. His followers saw it and were beside themselves with gladness –joy springing from hearts that as of late had grown dark. The Fountain had come back to them, and overflowing with Life. But He did not come to stay; it was only until He could inform, encourage, and speak to His people of the things that He saw His Father doing. Then one day, and before their very eyes, He lifted up His hands to bless them, and while doing so began ascending from the earth. He was seen no more.
Today is a New Day. Today the Fountain flows from the right hand of the living God. From there His waters surge forth in far greater ways than when He walked the earth. For now they move through you and through I, even through a countless number who have been born from above. From us they go out to a lost and dry and weary world, carving out their paths as they are directed from on high. Still there is a question that all who are of faith must ask themselves. Have we ceased abandoning Him? Are we so unlike the people who followed the Saviour two thousand years ago? If the lights seem to dim some, and the flow of the waters seem to lose their strength for a season, do we begin to wander from the Fountain? If the trial grows darker, and it’s hard to see a light, even at the tunnel’s end, do we stray further still? And what if we begin to notice that mere trickles are all that’s coming from the Fountain? What then? Is it time to just vacate His presence altogether? Well, that may be the natural thing to do at a fountain in a park, as I once saw happen, but it shouldn’t be so where it concerns the only true and living Fountain. Yet often times this is the choice we make. But why have the waters stopped in the first place? Is it because a time for testing has come? Or perhaps we played with sin until the cup overflowed. Or maybe it is for no other reason but that we’ve entered a dry season in the Spirit realm. No matter the cause, to remain on the straight path is imperative at this point, lest our difficulty grows more dire still, according to “Hebrews 12:12-13.” And so if we should begin cutting short our communion times with Him, or putting away our bibles when it pleases us, or if we cease gathering together with other believers, then these decisions will eventually prove tragic. For when the darkness comes, and those living waters stop, this is not the time to abandon the Fountain. It is in fact during such times that Jesus looks for some fellowship with us, not in power, nor in joy, nor in gladness of heart; but in weakness, and in tears, and in brokenness of spirit. To put it another way, it is during these dark days that He longs to fellowship with us upon a cross.
When Christians hear the word “fellowship”, we normally connect it to social activities, or maybe just getting together to shoot the breeze a while, but always we imagine a good time. And nothing is wrong with that. But this is not the only fellowship that our Saviour beckons us to. Sometimes He bids us to what the scripture calls “the fellowship of His sufferings.” This is when a believer comes to know the crucified Christ in all His distress, while in turn Christ eases the pain and affliction of the one who has joined himself to Him. In this a bond forms between the two that is as strong – if not stronger – than anything that would have united them through joyful circumstances. Think of it. It is a people who have suffered oppression at the hands of others that are most likely to band together. Normally they become supportive of each other and grow to be close-knit. But this is not so true among groups whose troubles have hardly been worth mentioning. And so to know Him in His sufferings, while He also shares in ours, is to bond with Him in a very special way. It is a mistake to abandon the Fountain when the waters stop and the lights go out. It is then that He presents to us the greater treasures. And it doesn’t matter if we don’t see or feel them right then and there. Such are the desires of the anxious and the unbelieving – of those whose walk is for the most part in the natural. But our Father in heaven longs to behold in us things of a higher nature, these being faith, trust, and a journey in spirit and in truth.
Jesus’ followers, prior to His crucifixion, lived their lives in the natural. And so they assumed that nothing of any real value could come from Him anymore since He suddenly appeared ineffective. But o how they were wrong. They missed it. The reason I know this is because on a steamy summer’s night in Chicago’s Grant Park, while I stood before a fountain engulfed in darkness, o how the Lord did speak. I heard in the darkness what He reserves only for those who hold no contempt for it, and have learned to not fear it. But those who despise it care just for the things that the Fountain does in the light. I claim no super spirituality if that’s what it seems. For He was only unfolding to me a spiritual truth by way of an analogy. But it is the real that I must fully come to grips with on my way to becoming complete in Him. After all, most grown men can stand in a literal darkness before a dead fountain. But can I abide in a greater darkness before a Fountain who for all intents and purposes seems to be dead, but in fact is very much alive? Can I learn to trust Him there, not fearing my surroundings? Moreover, can I even enjoy a transcendent fellowship with Him, though I cannot clearly behold Him? It is the one who can achieve these things that is complete in Christ.
Hear the words once penned by the apostle Paul in his letter to the Philippians: “…that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, if, by any means, I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.” It is more than just knowing Him in His power and in His light. He calls us also to know Him in weakness, even in the darkness of great pain and anguish. He bids us to feel the weight of a cross, the agony of a crucifixion. Then in all this He desires to form with us a perfect union where He has been stretched out between heaven and earth – a fellowship that cannot be broken. And this becomes a power indeed – a power of another kind. It is no doubt why our brother Paul also wrote, “Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
But all these things will run their course and then the morning will come. The psalmist’s words will be fulfilled: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” And on that morning the Fountain’s waters will flow with a purity and strength not known to the first creation; each cup, as it is lifted up, will overflow with the life of God. Also the Fountain’s lights will shine with an indefinable brilliance, leaving those who behold Him enraptured. Once He was abandoned, alone like no man was ever alone; but now His praises shall be greater than any man’s praises ever were, or will be again. The children will run and will play and will have great joy in His presence once more. And all the people will never cease expressing their unspeakable delights. But now He will continue in this way for ages unending. For no more will the Light of the Fountain be extinguished. Neither will the people walk away from Him in the night hours again. For the night has passed and a New Day has dawned, a Day eternal – lavishly poured out upon us by the Fountain.
J. Pecoraro
