Article
Belief
Care
Creed
4 min read

Understand what we thirst for

Whether for water or meaning, it’s a primal force.

Helen is a registered nurse and freelance writer, writing for audiences ranging from the general public to practitioners and scientists.

A child wearing a wool hat holds a glass and drink water from it.
Johnny McClung on Unsplash

Quenching thirst is a global problem. It can also be profoundly personal, impaired by illness. For nurses, it can be ethically and emotionally difficult, when treating dying patients. But is there ultimate relief? 

Thirst is the subjective sensation of a desire to drink something that cannot be ignored. The world is thirsty; globally, 703 million people lack access to clean water. That’s 1 in 10 people on the planet. 

Thirst is a life-saving warning system that tells your body to seek satisfaction through swallowing fluid. It works in partnership with other body processes - such as changes in blood pressure, heart rate and kidney function - to restore fluid, and salt, levels back to where they belong. Failure of any part of this beautifully balanced system leads to dehydration (or water intoxication), and perhaps to seizures, swelling of the brain, kidney failure, shock, coma and even death. 

Sometimes it’s difficult to quench thirst, because of problems with supply. According to the World Health Organization, at least 1.7 billion people used a drinking water source contaminated with faeces in 2022. Sometimes in war, water is weaponised, with systematic destruction of water sources and pipes. Water laced with rat fur, arsenic and copper has meanwhile been reported in prisons across the USA.  

At other times, there may be “water everywhere, but not a drop to drink” because of individual problems with swallowing. As a nurse, some of my most heartbreaking moments have been when I have been unable to fulfil a need as basic as a patient’s thirst; when even thickened fluids have led to intense coughing and distress, and a realisation that I can only moisten mouths and give so-called “taste for pleasure”: very small amounts of a favourite liquid or taste using a soft toothbrush, or a circular brush gently sweeping around the mouth and lips to release some of the liquid - even, and especially, at the end of life when the patient is unconscious. 

Difficulties in drinking are common in dementia when fluid can seem foreign and swallowing a surprise to the system. It’s thought that over 50 per cent of people in care homes have an impaired ability to eat or drink safely; 30 to 60 per cent  of people who have had a stroke and 50 per cent of those living with Parkinson’s may struggle to swallow. 

Other conditions that may affect swallowing include multiple sclerosis, cerebral palsy, and head and neck cancers. Diabetes is characterised by a raging thirst owing to problems with insulin (diabetes mellitus) or an imbalance in antidiuretic hormone levels (diabetes insipidus). In intensive care, patients are predisposed to thirst through mechanical ventilation, receiving nothing by mouth, and as a side effect of some medications. But thirst is a “neglected area” in healthcare, writes palliative care researcher Dr Maria Friedrichsen.  

“Knowledge of thirst and thirst relief are not expressed, seldom discussed, there are no policy documents nor is thirst documented in the patient’s record. There is a need for nurses to take the lead in changing nursing practice regarding thirst.” 

Is there another thirst that is also being missed in nursing, and in life in general – a spiritual thirst, beyond the physical desire to drink? In his book, Living in Wonder, writer Rod Dreher argues that humans are made to be spiritual, and that a critical sixth sense has been lost in a “society so hooked on science and reason”. We humans crave love in our deepest selves; we have an insatiable thirst for everything which lies within – and beyond – ourselves. Auschwitz survivor Viktor Frankl, who was later appointed professor of psychiatry at the University of Vienna, became convinced that human beings have a basic “will for meaning.” “The striving to find a meaning in one’s life,” he wrote, “is the primary motivational force in man.”  

In the harsh sun of a Middle East day, an ancient story of a man and a woman encountering each other at a water well illustrates this dual thirst for water and meaning. The man, Jesus, thankful for a drink of water given to him at the well by an outcast Samaritan woman, said that “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” In that midday sun, such imagery made a powerful statement.  

Being mindful of spiritual thirst when drinking water is something also captured in a Ghanaian proverb and pictured perfectly in the many birds that drink by gravity, so tipping their heads back when they swallow.  

“Even the chicken, when it drinks, 

Lifts its head to heaven to thank God for the water”. 

Unsatisfied thirst is part of the human condition, we long for something more; it’s living proof of our immortality, says French poet Charles Baudelaire. Despite his Olympic success, athlete Adam Peaty said that society didn’t have the answers he was seeking, and that a gold medal was the coldest thing to wear. He “discovered something that was missing” when attending church for the first time, and now has a cross with the words “Into the Light” tattooed across his abdomen, symbolizing his spiritual awakening. We are more than mechanical machines with physical needs. We are rather gardens to tend in a dry and thirsty land, with souls in need of intensive care.   

Article
Creed
Faith
Identity
Spiritual formation
1 min read

Beyond the wave and the feed

Why a generation—and a surfer—are chasing depth in a shallow world

Rick writes and speaks on leadership, transformation, and culture.

A setting sun back-lights a crowd of young people on a beach
Jen Loong on Unsplash.

For years, I've chased waves from Malibu to Maui, each one, big or small, pulling me into something raw, real, extraordinary, authentic, and divine. Between sets, I drift on my board, watching the horizon, waiting for the next wave to rise and carry me into a new spiritual journey. Each time, I'm humbled by an otherworldly sensation, a feeling beyond myself. My heart races, my toes buzz as I paddle and drop into the emerging liquid wall. In that instant, I realize I'm entering an environment that can transport me to another place, a spiritual state of wonder and awe.

When I paddle out into the ocean, I enter a world that pulls me towards something greater. This sense of wonder sparks my curiosity, urging me to look past myself, man-made institutions, and preconceived notions to what you might call the ‘invisible qualities’. For me they go beyond the laws of physics that rule the waves and the carve of my surf board. Thousands of years ago, Saint Paul called them ‘God’s invisible qualities’.    

Surfing deeply stirs my soul, tugging at my mind and heart. It reveals the wonder of each wave and the ocean's vastness, testifying to something more, a wonder and awe beyond my comprehension. In essence, surfing is my church. Every time I paddle into the liquid world of the sea, I see God’s invisible realities

Like surfers searching for the perfect wave, Gen Z is on a divine quest. Their "Jesus Curiousness" reflects a deeper yearning for something beyond the everyday - real answers and a profound sense of purpose.

New research indicates that over half (48-56 per cent) of Gen Z is "Jesus Curious," and yet these numbers do not reflect any uptick in church attendance. Someone recently posted, “The young people of Gen Z are diverse, educated, and social media savvy. When it comes to faith, they’re open to Jesus and his teachings but skeptical about institutions and leaders putting on a façade.” 

While Gen Z definitely shows a renewed interest in Jesus, they are simultaneously distancing themselves from the church. This might present a seeming contradiction, right? How can anyone, much less an entire generation, seek Jesus without engaging with the church? This phenomenon could be considered an oxymoron, much like phrases such as "almost always" or "jumbo shrimp." Or perhaps, this is an emerging trend? 

Adventurer and survivalist Bear Grylls recently articulated a sentiment that, I believe, precisely captures the essence of Gen Z's "Jesus Curiousness" and their quest for meaning outside traditional church settings. His words point to a core human longing: an authentic, genuine, and raw hope in something or someone that offers a personal answer to life's profound mysteries.

He said, “I want people to know that the Jesus I eventually discovered is intimate and beautiful and strong and gentle and relevant and life changing and life enhancing. People ask me the question, ‘what attracts you to Jesus?’ It's hard because it's like trying to say what do you like about the blood running in and around your body or water in the desert? It's like, try to live without it?” 

I think much of this shift - this renewed interest in the person of Jesus - can be traced back to how the Pandemic altered every one of our lives, specifically Gen Z. It contributed to a new and profound sense of despair, a crisis of meaning in all that we thought we knew. For example, when the Pandemic hit, it broke daily routines, both sacred and secular. Life as we knew it was put on pause and we had to look outside of those routines and what we thought we knew and practiced. We were stuck in our homes, often alone and in isolation. It gave us time to think. It created space to ask bigger, more existential questions and explore the essence of purpose and meaning. We were all forced to examine life and what we knew through a new lens. For Gen Z, this served as their catalyst. 

Notably, this larger trend of their rejection of religious institutions favors a personalized, authentic, and socially relevant spirituality. It's marked by how they distinguish between the figure of Jesus and the institution as they seek a deeper understanding of Him through unusual means. Instead of the church pew for example, they explore the commercially popular show The Chosen and contemplate the very human and honest lyrics of new musical artists like Forest Frank, both of which offer an accessible portrayal of Jesus.

In a world where digital perfection is first, Gen Z is looking for something outside of the traditional church, something authentic, a genuine connection to something real, something beyond this tangible world. Jesus to them represents this authenticity, someone to whom they can both approach with questions and find answers that potentially satiate their deepest curiosities:  What are we here for? What do we do? Is there more?

What’s interesting about this post-Christian generation is that they are not abandoning faith or becoming spiritually apathetic as many would suspect; rather, their exploration is a sincere journey for a genuine faith, leading some to consider them the most spiritual, non-religious generation to date. 

This surge in "Jesus Curiosity" doesn't suggest Christianity is losing its relevance. Conversely, it’s proof that something new, something raw is emerging and causing a shift in the spiritual landscape. It’s redefining labels and changing older definitions that may no longer fit. The underlying human desire remains constant: a quest for deeper meaning in life.

As we look at this generation and its sincere inquiry into the deeper things, we observe a spiritual renewal, a seeming revival worldwide, unprecedented in recent decades within a post-Christian society. Some call it the Quiet Revival. Gen Z does not want to fake it. They “just want to figure it out”. They are on a true quest, engaged in a journey of enchantment. At the center of their journey is Jesus, not religion and not the church. 

As my surf session ends, the salt roughens my skin and the sea's echo lingers in my soul like a quiet song. Walking back to my truck, board under arm, I relive each wave's freedom, the sound, the churn, the emerging shape. The raw power of the sea connects me to something greater, deepening my quest. You see, surfers and Gen Z in our sojourn share a common search, a common language - a search for something intangible, something immeasurable. We are on a quest to find, to see, and to know what St. Paul called God’s invisible realities.

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