Digging Wells: On Christian Engagement with the Modern World

Contributed by Caleb A. Chung

Photo by Jimmy Chang on Unsplash

For all the wells which his father's servants had digged in the days of Abraham his father, the Philistines had stopped them, and filled them with earth. And Abimelech said unto Isaac, Go from us; for thou art much mightier than we. And Isaac departed thence, and pitched his tent in the valley of Gerar, and dwelt there. And Isaac digged again the wells of water, which they had digged in the days of Abraham his father; for the Philistines had stopped them after the death of Abraham: and he called their names after the names by which his father had called them. And Isaac's servants digged in the valley, and found there a well of springing water. And the herdmen of Gerar did strive with Isaac's herdmen, saying, The water is ours: and he called the name of the well Esek; because they strove with him. And they digged another well, and strove for that also: and he called the name of it Sitnah. And he removed from thence, and digged another well; and for that they strove not: and he called the name of it Rehoboth; and he said, For now the Lord hath made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land. -Genesis 26:15-22

Christian conservatives frequently discuss how we ought to engage with an increasingly hostile culture. In his 2017 book The Benedict Option, Rod Dreher, a former columnist for the American Conservative, argued that we must prioritize spiritual depth over cultural acceptance: this requires, according to Dreher, embracing exile and forming resilient, countercultural subcommunities.¹ His thesis was met by a whirlwind of debate and alternative “options.” Some, particularly those aligned with the long-standing Christian nationalist or integralist movements, accused Dreher of ceding the public square and instead advocated for an aggressive recapture of modern culture.² Others sought softer but still active strategies: The Gospel Coalition’s Brandon Cooper, for example, presented the “Boniface Option,” an attack on the idols of modern culture.³ In another stirring reflection, First Things contributor Carl Trueman called Christians to man our posts faithfully and persist in ordinary religious practices, even if modern culture crumbles or the path leads to our destruction.⁴ He coined this the “Calvary Option.”

This article does not intend to outline yet another alternative option, nor can it engage with each of the dozens of options already put forward. Instead, this article aims to contribute general principles to the conversation by reflecting on an oft-neglected Biblical example: Isaac reopening Abraham’s wells.

In its occasional sermon appearance, the story of Isaac’s opening of the wells is usually treated as an example of persistence and graciousness amidst hostility. Such virtues matter. Many have correctly observed that the post-Christian world is often hostile to religion. At the least, secularism and moral relativism are eroding the influence of traditional values in key cultural centers like academia. During this time, it is important that we follow Isaac’s lead and persist when obstacles arise. We must also remember that we are called to be gracious to both friends and adversaries—even when it is difficult.⁵

Yet, the passage’s relevance to the Christian conservative runs deeper, as it extends to questions of both methods and goals. To illuminate these insights, a careful look at what precisely Isaac is doing in the passage is necessary. His task, restoring the work of his father, is a quintessentially conservative project—it is familiar to all striving to revive traditional values and cultural institutions. In Haketav Vehakaballah, a work attempting to unify the written and oral law, Rabbi Jacob Zyi Mecklenburg tells us that Abraham named his wells after different attributes of God.⁶ As such, they existed to declare God’s glory and testify about His nature. In that sense, the wells represent the expansion of God’s influence, and their very existence proselytizes to the local communities they were in. This explains why the Philistines stopped up the wells: after all, it is otherwise absurd that pastoralists would destroy water sources in the arid Near East. Filling in the wells was an erasure of Abraham’s cultural and religious legacy.

Beyond the ostensible theological significance of the wells, however, Isaac’s story still embodies the conservative mission. By retracing his father’s steps, Isaac honors Abraham and roots himself in his father’s work. When he eventually digs elsewhere, his efforts are an extension of the efforts of those who came before. Conservatives do the same. As Russell Kirk argues, conservatives are distinguished in part by adherence to “custom, convention, and continuity.”⁷ We guard the traditions, values, and collective wisdom of the past. We seek to learn from and model the examples of our forefathers. When the work of our predecessors has been attacked, we tend to it and repair it.

At first glance, Isaac’s actions are not particularly stirring. When the Philistines quarreled with Isaac, he did not protest. He simply ceded the newly restored well and moved on. Upon future quarreling, Isaac ceded the well again. But this does not mean that Isaac was weak. Digging wells is brutal, taxing work, and Isaac successfully finished digging these wells. The cession happened after, not before, living water flowed again: this story remains one of persistence.⁸ The significance of ceding the wells, then, is that Isaac ceded restored wells to his enemies. His goal was not to fight the Philistines; in fact, he acted for their benefit, even when they continually came to quarrel. Isaac also did not seem highly invested in keeping the water for himself. His primary goal was simply to ensure that living water flowed again—regardless of who got to enjoy it.

Isaac’s example reminds us that we are to operate on a separate plane from our enemies. Whereas the Philistines were concerned with water rights, Isaac was more concerned with the stopped wells. This perspective redrew the battle lines to make his apparent adversaries his ultimate beneficiaries. The Philistines were left objectively better off for Isaac’s efforts. Conservatives are, like Isaac, living in a dry world. Our calling is not merely to recapture key institutions: at least, it is not to recapture institutions for the exclusive use of conservatives. Instead, our priority is to ensure those institutions flourish and the water flows again. This mission can entail a range of actions, from promoting family values in the public square to restoring the traditional humanities education in modern universities. Even if we restore these cultural institutions only for those who oppose us to take them from us, we have still accomplished the work of our predecessors. The work is, in itself, good. It is also good for others.

Isaac’s model challenges the option of withdrawal: we must return to the places of our forefathers and continue their work. We cannot abandon the cause, even if it requires arduous, sacrificial labor. At the same time, Isaac’s approach is not combative. Rather than competing with his enemies, Isaac acted in service to them, regardless of whether they recognized it or not. Finally, Isaac’s model encourages us to remain hopeful. We do not have to anticipate inevitable defeat, as Isaac eventually gets a well to himself. We should, however, remember that the victory may not look as we expect. Perception is distinct from reality. Regardless of how the world appears, we are called to have faith that God is working and that our own work, when rooted in faith, is bearing fruit.

Conservatives often undertake projects out of love for those who came before and in service to those who will come after. But our purpose is broader. We do not labor solely for our families, churches, or ideological and cultural allies. We labor with the hope of benefiting all who are around us. Even if the rest of the world remains intent on quarreling with us, we are to fix our eyes on more important goals. Christ died for us while we were still sinners—He died so that the world which crucified Him might have life. Our work may be less important than His, but our mindset should similarly be one of service with a focus on the eternal.

DIETRICH BONHOEFFER

A version of this article originally appeared in City of God, the March 2025 print issue of the Salient.

1. Rod Dreher, The Benedict Option: A Strategy for Christians in a Post-Christian Nation. 2017.

2. This is, of course, an overgeneralization. There are distinct differences between Christian nationalism and integralism, and there is immense diversity within each camp. For an example of Christian nationalism, see Stephen Wolfe’s 2022 book The Case for Christian Nationalism. For an example of integralism, see the work of Harvard Law School Professor Adrian Vermuele. In the vein of further “options,” see, for instance, the Salazar Option (“The Salazar Option," American Greatness 2021.).

3. Brandon Cooper, “The Boniface Option,” The Gospel Coalition, 14 June 2023.

4. Carl Trueman, “How Pop Nietzscheanism Masquerades as Christianity,” First Things, 16 May 2024.

5. Matthew 5:44-48

6. Aaron Goldstein, “Toldot: A Battle over Water or Faith?" Sefaria.

7. “Ten Conservative Principles,” The Russell Kirk Center.

8. The Hebrew reads mayim chayim, or “living water."