Yearning Day 6: Yearner At The Well

Day 6: Yearner at the Well

Jesus told the thirsty woman at the well, “Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.” 

In John 6:35, told the unbelieving crowd, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst.” 

In John 7:37-38, he told a divided crowd, that “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.” 

In Matthew 5:6, Jesus told the disciples, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.” 

The Alpha and Omega says in Revelation 21:6, “I will give of the fountain of the water of life freely to him who thirsts. 

She was thirsty. The labored walk in the heat of the day parched her mouth to be as dry as the dusty road that clung to her clod-covered feet. 

Twelve men passed by her without even glancing her way and it just as well. She was done with men anyway. Women too. Nothing but gossips, whisperers. They didn’t like her, and despised them as much as she did men. So she walked for water in the heat of the day, alone.

But not alone for long. There at the well sat another one of them. Proud Jew, she presumed, judging from His clothes. She didn’t dare look at him, she knew he would not look back, let alone talk to her.

She jumped when He spoke. No request, no please, just a firm command to give him a drink. Typical man, she thought, wanting to take and nothing to give. Why did he even have to talk to her, she was the wrong race, wrong religion, wrong location, wrong gender in his mind, no doubt. “Thank you, God, I am not a dog, a Samaritan or a woman,” she had heard other Jews mockingly pray.

She answered his command with a question, but she really did not want an answer. She wanted her water. She wanted to leave. But he did answer her.

Living water? This man doesn’t even have a ladle, let alone a bucket or a pot. Not even a rope to reach down the deep well. “He mocks me, like everyone else. Who does he think he is, better than Jacob who first dug the well?”

“Sir,” she began, dripping with sarcasm to this high and mighty Jew, hoping again to shut him up.

Never thirst again? Spring of water welling up to eternal life? She finally looked into his eyes and her gaze was quickly locked with his. He did not seem as crazy as his words sounded. He certainly wasn’t as pious as she first thought; he seemed kind, gentle, harmless.

His eyes, his voice, his face, his words seemed like he wanted to give, not take. Something about his presence made his bizarre words almost…believable.

The heat didn’t melt her icy responses. He did. Whatever he was offering, sure, she’d take a sip.

“Sir,” She didn’t spit the words out this time, she softly said them, half-way being respectful, half-way being vulnerable. She turned his request around to ask him to give her this drink that would quench her yearning forever.

Get my husband? Surely this stranger doesn’t know me, so a half truth is as good as an answer. “I have no husband,” she demurred.

How did he know that? Her “well” had turned sour six times. At least. Five failed marriages, she had given up and now the live-in relationship wasn’t even going so well. She knew the problem wasn’t them, it was her. Men abused her and then abandoned her. She was damaged goods.

“Sir,” she said again, this time in full respect. This was no pious hypocrite, this was surely a prophet. Why is he here? Why is he talking to me? Is he with them, the JEWS, or with us, the half-breeds?

Worship? Spirit? Truth? She remembered how she was raised. Not with rituals, the location did not matter. Oh how she missed the simple worship of her upbringing that once filled and satisfied her. Does this man know about the Anointed one to come?

I AM who is speaking to you?  "Wait," she thought, "did he really just say what I thought he said." Those noisy men she passed earlier were bungling up the path. Did they know him? Is he really the one? No longer thirsty, she obliviously left her pot, running to town to tell, to ask, to see. If he wasn’t the crazy one, maybe she was.

“Could this be the Messiah? Come and see a man who has quenched this thirsting of my soul!”