Change

I wonder when she woke up that morning if she knew her entire world was about to change. Sometimes it sneaks up on us...change. And at other times it comes upon us so forcefully that we're left reeling with the shock of it.

I re-read the story about the woman at the well tonight (John 4:1-26). And as I read this familiar passage, I could see her so clearly in my mind's eye.

*** 

Hearing the piercing call of a rooster next door, she awoke with a start. After a fitful sleep she had awoken late once again. The light coming through the cracks of the window announced another lonely day. She knew she should probably feel fortunate to even have a bed to wake up in. Five husbands she'd had, and the man she shared a bed with didn't even have the decency to make her a married woman. But he put a roof over her head and kept her from begging on the streets. She'd put up with the gawking, the silence, the stares from the "good" women. Whoever they were. It seemed to her that they couldn't be too good with the tongues that wagged every time she walked by. Or had she imagined it? It had been so long since she'd had female companionship, sometimes she'd have conversations with herself just to pass the time.

The sun was getting higher.

She began the preparations for the day, and decided what she'd cook for dinner that night. She delayed the inevitable trip to the well until the village women were gone. It was better that way. At first she tried to join them, hoping to catch a bit of conversation here and there. Instead, she was met with awkward stares and silence. Always silence. She was not worthy to even share their gossip. Slipping on her sandals and hefting the jar to her hip, she made her way to the well. The sun was very high in the sky at this point, and beads of sweat began to form above her brow. And as she walked that well-worn path, she allowed her constant companions to join her...her never-ending regrets.

Her childhood played across her minds-eye in brilliant colors. Carefree, colorful days. Dreams of being a wife...a help-mate...a mother some day. She thought of her first marriage, and the hope - the great hope! - she carried within her heart as she finally became a bride. Then the heartache. The divorce papers. She had no children to call her own. What good is a wife that cannot bear a child? Accusations of infidelity bit at her heart like a snake. Another offer of marriage...and another, and another, and another. Five marriages in all. Empty promises. Heartache upon heartache until her heart was too calloused to even care anymore. Love anymore. Broken, shattered, without hope. No, there was no hope...no joy left for her. Just a bitter realization that she had to do what she could to survive.

Engrossed in her thoughts, she arrived at the well. With a start she suddenly realized she wasn't alone. Eyes to the ground, she made sure she didn't engage this man who clearly looked to be a Jewish Rabbi. What was he doing here in the heat of the day? Where were his disciples? She began to quickly fill her water jug from the well, being careful not to look at him. She could tell he was looking at her though. No, it was if she could feel him looking at her. But not like other men had looked at her...as if wanting something from her. No, this man was different.

"Will you give me a drink?" he asked.

"Give you a drink? I am a Samaritan, and you are a Jew. How can you ask me for a drink?" she softly replied.

"Obviously the heat has gotten to him," she thought. Samaritans and Jews DO NOT associate. Jewish people hate Samaritans, and they have even more reason to hate me. I'm not worthy to even step foot in their town, much less their temple courts.

And then He looked at her. And this time she couldn't avoid the deep pools of his eyes. His eyes were searching her own...calling to her. It was as if time all at once stood still, and held its breath.

With a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth he said, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water." 

All of a sudden, a river of questions hit her mind: "Living water? What could he mean? I'd love to be able to never come to this place again!"

"What do you mean...living water? You've nothing to draw with, and the well is very deep," she replied tentatively.

He answered, "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." 

And at that moment hope burst forth upon her heart once more. Just listening to this simple man set her spirit on fire. Every word He was speaking rang with pure truth. It was unnerving and intoxicating at the same time. But just as quickly, his next words sent her back into a pit of despair.

"Sir, give me this water so that I won't get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water," she pleaded.

"Go, call your husband and come back," he replied.

Her heart sank, and the cloak of despair began to close around her shoulders once more. But she realized in that moment she had nothing left to lose by telling him the truth. Pride was a distant memory. And as she raised her eyes to his, she found there complete acceptance, not condemnation. There was no ridicule or rejection. No...his eyes were extending her an invitation. Would she accept?

"I have no husband," she said.

"You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true," he replied.

"He is a prophet," she thought. "A prophet in our midst...in MY midst!" Her heart began to beat faster as she realized what this could mean. Oh, she had heard the stories over the years, and at her mother's knee she learned about the great prophets of old. Elijah, Elisha, and Ezekiel among others. Amos and Joel. Men...mighty men of God. Men who called fire from the sky and raised men from the dead. Perhaps this prophet could restore her life. Restore her honor and raise her from her own living death. Could God work a miracle in her life?

"Sir," the woman said, "I can see that you are a prophet. Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, but you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem."

Then Jesus declared, "Believe me, woman, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You Samaritans worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews. Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth."

Truth. This prophet seemed to put a lot of emphasis on that one little word. It exuded from him somehow. Hadn't he just commended her for telling him the truth? And could this man be the Deliverer her people had been taught to hope for generation after generation?

She replied, "I know that Messiah is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us."

Then Jesus declared, "I who speak to you am he."

*** 

Jesus revealed Himself to this lonely, desperate, sin-stricken woman. He offered her all He had - Himself. And it was enough...more than enough! She found the living water that brought the dead back to life. And in her joy she evangelized her entire community and drew them to the Lord. Honor was returned. Joy was returned...hope returned in full measure. Pressed down, shaken together and running over. Changed. 

Alive!