|  April 17, 2025

The Riddle of God’s Thirst

God listens to the heartfelt cries of Asians! They are enduring immense suffering due to the monopoly of resources by a privileged few. This growing economic inequality has plunged many families into poverty and despair, leaving them struggling to meet even their most basic needs. The political landscape is full of alienation and oppression, as the voices of the marginalized often go unheard. Human dignity is frequently trampled upon, and human rights are ignored. Additionally, countless individuals are grappling with the devastating effects of natural disasters, such as recent floods and earthquakes, all while facing the looming challenges of global warming.

Koreans from my motherland are experiencing a tumultuous time marked by intense political and ideological conflict. This turbulence is intricately tied to conflicts involving powerful nations. Having endured numerous challenges over thousands of years, Koreans deeply yearn for security and peace more than ever. Unfortunately, they continue confronting political chaos and the looming fear of becoming subservient to China. The domestic political environment remains uncertain, with radical leftists and conservatives at odds, leaving the future shrouded in uncertainty. For centuries, the Korean people have sought safety and stability, believing these are precious gifts bestowed by Heaven.

And Jesus came to offer these precious gifts. Let’s delve into how he made them available to us!

Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” The Lord of life, who once said, “Come to me and drink” (John 7:37), was now thirsty. As a human, he endured profound physical suffering, dehydration, and agony on the cross. Why would the divine Son of God, the eternal Word, express such a human need? For a divine being, it is neither necessary nor looks right. At first glance, it doesn’t make sense at all. Is there any profound reason for his thirst? His thirst was not for his own fault. But it highlighted the brokenness of humanity, estranged from God. Jesus participated in our suffering by assuming a human body—an extraordinary act of love and compassion. Though the Divine did not need to suffer, he chose to enter our fragile existence, fully embracing our pain. Even though he is the eternal Word of God, he became human (John 1:1).

What an unimaginable truth!
The Divine became human.
The Immortal became mortal.
This is all about the Incarnation.
Jesus embraced pain through his Incarnation.
Our thirst became his.
He embraced our thirst, our pain, and our humanity.
So, he truly became one of us.
This is the marvelous mystery of the Incarnation!

But why?

As St. Athanasius beautifully said, he assumed a body capable of death “as an offering and sacrifice free from every stain, so that He forthwith abolished death for His human brethren.”1 He became thirsty so we could drink deeply from the cup of eternal living water.

He was pierced so that we could be healed. In his cry, “I am thirsty,” we hear his heartbeat, filled with love and compassion. The God who cannot suffer willingly chose to endure pain. But some say he is a selfish God who plays with humanity for his amusement. For them, we are created to serve a selfish God. Thus, we are replaceable; if we fail to meet certain expectations, we can easily be replaced by something else. What a pity we are! In a sense, we must take charge of our lives and figure out our own paths.

So, Nietzsche comes in. He kills the tyrannical and selfish God and promotes the idea of amor fati or love of fate.2 He argues that we must reject this “selfish” God and accept our destiny and strive to live as “overmen” (Übermenschen), individuals who transcend conventional morality and create their own values.3 However, humans are not overmen who can take God’s place. This was where Nietzsche erred. God is not selfish. He is not a god who sacrifices humans for his own pleasure. Instead, God embraced suffering for the sake of humanity through his infinite love and selflessness. The Incarnation serves as the ultimate proof of this. This culminates in Jesus’ cry from the cross, “I am thirsty.” Here, we encounter a profound paradox. The very source of living water, who declared, “Let anyone thirst, let him come to me and drink” (John 7:37), now found himself in need. Jesus, the water of life, was thirsty. What an irony! The Creator of living water suffered from thirst. He embraced suffering for the salvation and restoration of humanity. A selfish god could never do that. Thus, Nietzsche was wrong. God– the Word made flesh– is a loving being who infinitely accepts and embraces fragile human beings like us. He set aside his own comfort for the benefit of humanity, even enduring the suffering on the cross.

He was broken so we could be whole.
His suffering has become our salvation.
His death became our life.
His defeat became our triumph.

As we meditate on Jesus’ final words, “It is finished”—an exclamation of triumph rather than defeat—we grasp the incredible weight of his statement (in Greek, Τετέλεσται!). He completed his work of atonement, paying the ultimate price for our sins. In this act of sacrifice, he conquered the death brought by sin and overcame the enemy that held our destinies captive. His triumph symbolizes hope for all suffering creation, addressing political injustice, economic exploitation, environmental destruction caused by greed, and oppression based on religion and ideology.

Jesus’ last words are good news for all who thirst for the peace and human dignity that this earth cannot give. It is a precious gift that Jesus became human and gave himself. He gave life and redemption to Asian people suffering from political marginalization, poverty, economic inequality, natural disasters, and the denial of human rights–and to all of creation groaning. That’s why Jesus’ Incarnation is our only hope.

So, we can grasp the blessings and triumphs that the Word of God has brought us. May the confession of St. Athanasius be ours this Holy Week: “For he was incarnate that we might be made god” 4(cf. Jn 1:12-13; 2 Pet. 1:4).

Amen!

  • 1 St. Athanasius, On the Incarnation, trans. and ed. John Behr, with an introduction by C.S. Lewis (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2011), 58.
  • 2 Amor fati is a philosophical concept popularized by Friedrich Nietzsche, emphasizing an attitude of acceptance and even love toward one’s fate, regardless of its nature. See Friedrich Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1969).
  • 3 See Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Penguin, 1978).
  • 4 St. Athanasius, 107. By this statement, Athanasius was referring to participation in the divine nature (cf. John 1:12-13; 2 Pet. 1:4), becoming more like God in character and relationships.
Dr. Paul In Young Kim is an ordained minister in the Presbyterian Church of Korea and has served as a missionary to Pakistan since 2001. He was a theological educator at Zarephath Bible Seminary in Pakistan for 18 years and currently teaches as a faculty member in the humanities at the Pakistan Global Institute University. He is an alumnus of the Ph.D. program at IGSL, AGST–Philippines, and holds a Doctor of Ministry degree from the Reformed Theological Seminary in the United States. In his personal life, he enjoys serving his wife, Sharon, a Café Latte in the morning, playing the saxophone, and gardening, which are his sources of joy and relaxation.