This well story had been about our family until now. First, it meant that we would not have to haul water; second, it meant that we had God’s affirmation on our calling at the farm; third, and most affirming to me, was the promise of God’s blessing. Always, but now even more so, I saw this land as God’s land, and we were but his stewards
The week quickly flew by. Finding water was not the end of the story. Now we had to hire someone to dig the line from the well to the house, a distance of about three hundred yards, farther than we had hoped. But who was complaining at this point? God had proven himself faithful in giving us this unusual well, and we were beginning to understand the depth of his love and the steadfastness of his character. At this point in the story we thought we had withstood all of the tests and had grown into maturity through these tests, but, as I see now in my reflections back on those years, in many ways we were still babies, learning how to live in a trusting relationship with our Father. And this would be the beginning of more and more lessons through the years.
Soon, the well story began to take on more significance.
It was Saturday evening and our living room was crowded with eager, creative, college students along with several college professors and a retired missionary couple. After meeting for over a year and a half, we had somewhat jokingly called ourselves The Group at the Place with a Plan. But, it was time to define ourselves. As a group, we had already planned and orchestrated a L’Abri conference at Kansas State University with over 700 people in attendance, and we were now planning to follow-up by hosting a Spiritual Dynamics Conference at the farm. But we needed a name.
The discussion that evening centered on what name we would attach to this rag-tag group. What name would identify us as we sent out brochures and contacted others? We now had a base of 700 names from the L’Abri Conference.
Of course, I was the big proponent of a name that had something to do with the well. “This was God’s affirmation of what we are doing here on the farm already. And a promise of His Spirit poured out. Surely, we the name should have something to do with water.” Lots of water images began to be tossed around: Living Water (already taken), Water of Life, and finally, Wellspring began to emerge as the likely candidate. Most of those present came on board, but Judd was dragging his feet. Since he was an important part of this decision, we continued trying to work toward a solution. We wanted not just a consensus, nor a majority, but a unanimous decision.
Let me give just a brief description of these people who had gathered together in our living room. It wasn’t just that they were gifted, nor simply that they had given of themselves to this project. We loved them. They were called together by the Spirit, we fully believed. They were family, and as a family we were committed to one another with a bond that was difficult to describe.
In the middle of our discussion, the telephone rang and Judd jumped up to answer it. The call was coming from California. Our pastor, Gordon Mollett, one of the godliest men we had ever known, was on the line. Judd had served on the steering committee of that little church which was, even now, our model for how to do church.
When Judd hung up the phone that evening, he came back into the room chuckling. “Okay, you guys, I give up.” Before he hung up Gordon had signed off with, “Remember, Judd, Jesus promised that from your innermost being will flow rivers of living water.”
“I concede, ‘Wellspring’ it will be!”
And so began a new dimension to the place and to this group who were gathering at this place. We had a name. It was a name that would be our identity, but it was also a name that continually reminded us from where the source of our power, our heart, and our vision would flow. We were committed to listening to that source as we made our plans. He was to be the well from which we gained our sustenance.