Many of us remember the whimsical tune of the “Hole In The Bucket Song” from childhood. The repetitive back-and-forth between Henry and Liza about fixing a leaky bucket with increasingly absurd solutions is both catchy and, upon reflection, surprisingly insightful. For those unfamiliar, or needing a lyrical refresher, here’s a snippet:
There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, There’s a hole.Then fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it.With what should I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I fix it, dear Liza, with what?With a straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With a straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, with a straw.
And so the cycle continues, escalating from straw to axe to whetstone, each solution creating a new problem in a seemingly endless loop. As children, we might have giggled at Henry’s predicament, but as adults, especially those engaged in service and ministry, this silly song can strike a deeper chord. Have you ever felt like Henry, constantly working, fixing, and “doing,” only to find yourself perpetually drained, as if your own bucket has a hole?
Recently, a thought-provoking message from Pastor Rich Villodas of Queens, New York, resonated deeply: “Our doing for Jesus must be sustained by being with Jesus and the greatest gift we give to others is our ongoing transformation in Christ.” He further encouraged us to be mindful of “using God-activity to run from yourself or intimacy with God.” This wisdom shines a light on the potential “hole in the bucket” many of us experience in our spiritual lives.
It’s easy to fall into the trap of “God-activity.” We become so consumed with serving, teaching, leading, and performing religious duties – all seemingly good things – that we neglect the essential foundation: our personal relationship with Christ. Like Henry frantically trying to fix his bucket with increasingly complex tools, we can become entangled in a cycle of busyness, mistaking activity for spiritual depth. We pour out to others, yet our own source of replenishment is dwindling, unnoticed.
This realization can be unsettling. Perhaps, like me, you’ve been operating on autopilot, going through the motions of faith without truly nurturing your inner life. The bucket you’re using to pour into others is leaking, rendering your efforts less effective, and leaving you spiritually parched. The good news, unlike the song’s frustrating conclusion, is that our spiritual buckets can be mended.
The first step towards repair is honest self-assessment. We need to pause and evaluate our spiritual health. For too long, we might have ignored the warning signs, pretending everything is fine while internally feeling depleted. Are there areas in your life where you’re sacrificing intimacy with Christ at the altar of “doing”? Are there weak spots in your spiritual bucket, unnoticed cracks that are slowly draining your vitality?
Once we acknowledge the “hole,” confession becomes crucial. Proverbs 28:13 wisely states, “Whoever conceals their sin does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy.” There is immense relief in bringing our spiritual state before God, even though He is already aware. Instead of condemnation, we encounter grace, mercy, and an invitation to rest. This isn’t a call to more frantic activity, but to something radically different.
In the nursery rhyme, Liza’s solutions for Henry all involve more doing. But the divine solution is the opposite. When we discover a hole in our spiritual bucket, the invitation isn’t to find a bigger straw or a sharper axe. It’s to put the bucket down entirely. It’s to cease striving, to cease the endless cycle of “doing,” and instead, to sit at the foot of the cross. There, at the place of Christ’s finished work, we allow ourselves to be washed anew, transformed from the inside out. This is where true replenishment and lasting repair begin.
