Water That Lasts (Part 3)

“‘I don’t have a husband,’” she answered (John 4:17, HCSB).

Oh the weight that her words carry. If we were to read her memoir, we’d find some pages a bit messy. Of course Jesus already knows her story, cover to cover. Yet it doesn’t  deter Him from stopping at the well. He arrives at the height of day, ready for a rest and right on time for an appointment He had scheduled just for her—a Samaritan woman, coming alone, one arm balancing an empty jar atop her weary shoulder, the other dragging heavy baggage behind.  Jesus asks her for a drink, and the conversation moves along. Her interest is piqued by this “living water” — the kind Jesus promises will quench her thirst once and for all. Never thirst again? Soon she’s the one asking Him for water, which He’s glad to give freely. (1)

But first…

“‘Go call your husband,’ he told her, ‘and come back here.’” 

“‘I don’t have a husband,’” she answered. 

“‘You have correctly said, ‘I don’t have a husband,’ Jesus said. ‘For you’ve had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have said is true’” (John 4:15-18, HCSB).

Jesus doesn’t skirt around her less-than-perfect past. He also doesn’t belabor it. He knows the stirrings within her heart. The conversation meanders through matters of theology and moves toward its pinnacle.

“The woman said to him, ‘I know that the Messiah is coming’ (who is called Christ). ‘When he comes, he will explain everything to us.’ Jesus told her, ‘I, the one speaking to you, am he’” (John 4:25,26). 

I…am.

The words would have rung familiar to this Samaritan, perhaps bringing to mind an encounter recorded long before, when one day, on the far side of a desert, the Most High met with a man named Moses— man who, in spite of his messy past, was commissioned to carry news to the Israelites in Egypt. Good news, of God’s plan to rescue them from misery.

“‘Thus you shall say to the children of Israel, ‘I AM has sent me to you’” (Exodus 3:14, NKJV). 

In these days leading to Christmas, many of us will revisit the accounts of Christ’s birth, penned in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. We’ll have barely begun reading before we’re reminded of some messy stories. It wouldn’t have been customary in that time and culture for women to be named in genealogical records, yet for some reason Matthew was inspired to include them. I love this glimpse of the kindness and grace of our amazing God. 

Included in the first chapter of Matthew are Tamar, who, widowed and rejected, posed as a prostitute and became pregnant by her father-in-law. And Rahab—a known prostitute. Ruth, widowed in her homeland of Israel’s longstanding enemy, Moab. And Bathsheba, who, in one of history’s greatest scandals, was impregnated by the King and then had to mourn the death of the child she bore. (2)

Stories like these remind us that God does not always seek out the shiny spotless versions of humanity to tell His story. These women mentioned by Matthew were invited into God’s grand plan and the greatest birth of all time.

Even the manger was messy—such an unlikely cradle for a newborn King.

Let us look, once more, to the well. To the place where, some 30 years after the manger scene, Jesus reveals publicly, for the first time, His Messiahship. And to whom does He reveal it?  To an ill-reputed woman from an ill-reputed town in an ill-reputed region.

I wonder. What was the moment for her?  Was it when He asked her for a drink?  Was it when He said He had water that would quench her thirst once and for all?  Was it when He summarized her life story?  

Or, was it when He said those words, “I am he”?  

Whatever the case, her life is changed—her heart rearranged—forever. She wastes no time in heading back to Sychar—the town she has always run from. There’s a sense she’s no longer ashamed, no longer dragging her past behind her, no longer hiding from people she’s avoided. She goes, carrying  great news and compelled to share it: The Messiah is here. Come and see! (3)

So, what of your story, and mine? What about our messy stories? Just like He stepped from heaven to earth some 2000 years ago, and just like He stopped at the well that day, Jesus, our Emmanuel, willingly enters our stories too. 

No words of our narratives are wasted. The messy parts don’t define or disqualify us. In the hands of the Potter, every page of every chapter—even the wounds, the poor decisions, the shards and slivers, the long and dark and lonely seasons—can become something of beauty. If we allow it, our stories can become a vessel that our Living Water will pour Himself into, so that, like the Samaritan woman, we might carry His Name to the rest of the world. 

“But the angel said to them, ‘Don’t be afraid, for look, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people:  Today in the city of David a Savior was born for you, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be the sign for you:  You will find a baby wrapped tightly in cloth and lying in a manger’” (Luke 2:10-12 HCSB).

1  Holman Christian Standard Version, John 4.4-15, paraphrased

2  Genesis 38.6-26, Joshua 2:1-21, Ruth 1:4, 2 Samuel 11

3  John 4.28,29, paraphrased