After enduring hours of historical lecturing, it was my turn to sip from the illustrious fountain.

I was touring St. Augustine, Fla., with a few friends. We decided to visit an acclaimed attraction, the Fountain of Youth, and drink from its waters.

Legend has it that the famed explorer, Ponce de Leon, discovered it in the 1500s. Setting out with three ships, he hoped to find a mystical fountain that would provide everlasting life—an idea he probably heard from the Indians. A similar legend floated around Europe and Hawaii.

But I had my doubts that Ponce's discovery could deliver, especially after I saw the spring, which turned out to be a pathetic trickle. The water had a brownish tint to it, and stunk—like sulfur. I somehow choked down a swallow.

Nasty.

If there actually were a fountain that could restore our life, wouldn't you, like Ponce de Leon, journey to the ends of the earth to find it?

There is. But our voyage to find this spring leads us inward, not outward. In John 7:38, Jesus said, "Whoever believes in Me as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him" (New International Version).

The water Jesus is talking about is the Holy Spirit—the person of the Trinity present inside every follower of Jesus. The Holy Spirit is our life source, the refreshing stream of God's presence. But so often we ignore Him, settling for man's religious laws and bylaws or the cloistered Christian subculture to give us life. Without regularly depending on the Holy Spirit, we reduce the Christian journey to a tourist trap: a drink from a sulfurous drip.

The Holy Spirit gives life and refreshment. This geyser of goodness allows us to experience a God who loves us perfectly.

He is our "helper," God's presence within us. This person of God is mysterious, but one thing is clear: He flows like a crystalline river of life, waiting to refresh our parched existence.

Meanwhile, Ponce's fountain remains a farce; as the years pass, clearly I grow older. Thankfully, a different kind of fountain renews me each day.

The roar made me jump. But it only encouraged the visitors to continue harassing the bedraggled lion.

With cigarettes hanging from their lips, guests in this dilapidated Chinese zoo laughed as they threw bottles at the creature. Stripped of proper nutrition, bound by rusting iron bars, and confined to a small space, the creature's majesty could not be seen. But the roars displayed her grandeur and fury.

I thought about how Jesus could have roared at Calvary. "And the robbers who were crucified with Him also reviled Him," it says in Matthew 27:44 (English Standard Version). Jesus could have silenced the mockers for all eternity.

He could have roared, but He didn't.

The Lion of Judah and that lion in China are opposites. On the cross, when Christ seemed weakest, He displayed His great power. The roaring lion in China seemed strong, but she only had her roar. In reality she was pathetically weak.

In Satan's world, might roars, even when it is caged. In God's world, majesty is often silent. When we are weak, we are strong. Christ manifests His glory in our weakness. Majesty robes itself not in powerful roars, but in humility.

When my kids were little, as they recognized the sound of my husband's car pulling into the garage at night, they would charge to the door to greet him. Like puppies, each one clamored over the other to head up the welcoming committee.

All but one. Three-year-old Meredith would run and hide under the dining-room table. Same place, every night. Not wanting to compete with her brothers and sister, she wanted to be found. She wanted her dad to make the effort to acknowledge her. So each night, after warmly greeting the other kids, her dad would oblige her. He would call out her name, hunt around the house for her, and then act surprised when he found her under the table. She loved being found.

That little scenario always makes me think of God. God is always in the same place, drawing us to Himself. He doesn't hide; He's not playing games like Meredith. But He wants us to pursue Him. He wants us to make some effort to acknowledge Him. He wants a special relationship with us. A two-way conversation.

It's an open invitation with a guaranteed result. "You will seek Me and find Me," God promises in Jeremiah 29:13. Always there, always available. On duty, day or night.

If we look for Him, He will be found. Meredith waited expectantly under the table for her dad, and was always delighted to see him. God joyfully greets us when we come to Him. We need only look.