Have you ever had that experience when someone looks at you and you can tell that they know all abut you? I had that experience today. I was going out to Jacob’s well to draw water. It was the height of the day, and the heat was beating down on me. Most people choose to go out to the well just after dawn, when it’s still cool, but I don’t have the luxury. My company’s not welcome then. So, I battle with the midday sun to get the water my family and I so desperately need.
Normally it’s a lonely trip to the well, but not this day. There was a Jewish man there, sitting in whatever shade he could get. He looked exhausted. I kept my head down, expecting to be ignored or insulted. Men don’t normally speak to me – respectable men don’t anyway – and Jewish men certainly don’t – not nicely, anyway, but he looked straight at me, and asked, “Could you get me a drink? I’m so thirsty!” I was so taken aback, that I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Do you know who you’re talking to? Why is a Jewish man talking to a Samaritan woman? Are you sure you want to ask me for a drink?”
“If you knew who I was, you’d be asking me for living water – I can give you drink that’d mean you’d never be thirsty again.”
“But how?” I countered, “The well is deep and besides, you’ve nothing to fetch the water with. Where does this so-called “living water” come from? Do you know whose well this is? Jacob himself. He got water from here – so did his sons and livestock. Are you greater than him?”
“Look, you drink this water you’ll be thirsty again,” he replied, beckoning to the well, “With the water I have you’ll never be thirsty again. This water will never run out. It’s the water of eternal life.”
I couldn’t work out if he was joking or not, but I replied anyway, “Never be thirsty? That sounds amazing – I’d love some of that water – it’d mean I’d never have to trudge here to this well to get water.”
“I could give it to you,” he responded, with a half-smile on his face, “Just call your husband and come back with him.”
Now, this was awkward. “Actually, I have no husband,” I blushed.
“I know that,” he replied, very evenly, “In fact, you’ve had five husbands, and the man you’re with at the moment isn’t your husband. You spoke the truth there, for sure!”
I was flabbergasted. How could he possibly know that? I didn’t know how to respond, so I just blurted out the first thing that came into my head.
“Sir, you’re clearly a prophet – you must be to know this stuff. So, tell me this. Our ancestors used to worship on this mountain, but you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem.”
“Yes, that’s right,” he replied, “but a time is coming, believe me, you won’t worship the Father either on this mountain or Jerusalem – you won’t have to choose between them anymore. It won’t matter where you worship. You Samaritans worship something you don’t know. We Jews worship our God, whom we do know for salvation comes from Jews; God will save the world through them. But the time is on its way – in fact, it’s here already, when those who truly worship will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, when your worship must engage your spirit in the pursuit of truth. It’s who you are and the way you live that counts before God; it doesn’t matter where you worship, but how you worship. The Father is looking for those who are simply and honestly themselves before him when they worship. For God is spirit – you can’t contain him in one single location – he is everywhere, so those who worship him must do it out of their very being, their spirits, their true selves, in adoration.”
I was just about clinging on to what this man was saying – it was so new, so novel, but I wanted to keep on talking with him. “You say this time is coming, well, I know that the Messiah is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us and make it clear.”
Then he replied to me, “Well, you’re looking at him – I’m the Messiah.”
Well, I was reeling from this. Was it really possible that I was talking with the Messiah himself, by a well in Samaria, in the middle of the day? I didn’t know what to think. Just then, some men appeared and greeted the man – they were all young, so I guessed that they were his disciples. They were carrying supplies – they’d clearly been on an errand. They looked at me and were clearly surprised to see the man in conversation with a woman, but they didn’t say anything.
“Look,” I said, “Please don’t go away – other people need to hear what you have to say.”
“I’ll wait,” he smiled. I left my water jar and ran into the town square. “Everyone, come with me, come and see a man who has told me everything I’ve ever done. I think he could be the Messiah!” Well, that got their attention, and a crowd of people got up from their gossiping and came out of the town to find out what I was going on about. The man – Jesus, I found out his name was – settled down to teach them by the well. Like me, many came to believe that he was the Messiah.
As the day was fading, we urged him to stay with us some more, and were delighted when he agreed. He stayed two more days, teaching in the town square. This was a man who was prepared to talk with a woman – a samaritan woman of all people, and gave me the time of day. He knew all about my past, but he still gave me respect and dignity, and now I have hope. I feel more alive than ever. After he left, I was shaking my head with disbelief at all that happened those days. Someone came up to me. “Thank you for inviting us to come and see. We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Saviour of the world.”
A whole village met the Saviour of the World. How wonderful that I had a part to play in this. And I no longer have to draw water from the well in the heat of the day. That’s pretty wonderful too!
Halwill Publishing 