There's A Hole In My Water-Jar

You don't know me.

I've been to most places that women fear to tread. I've known men. I've been married to men. Really, it's the same old story: I meet a man who has piqued my interest and pursue him. I feel attracted to them, and then I feel them start to drift away while I'm still clinging on. In the end I gave up having a deep commitment like marriage with any man. What is this inside of me, who am I as a person, that makes me so disposable? And are these men themselves disposal? Are these men, like me, searching? Searching for what? Love. Contentment. Purpose. Satisfaction. Something more.

These are the questions that accompany me on my long walks. My long walks alone. Just me and my thoughts. I don't choose to walk alone. I walk alone because when you have a history like mine, people will cross to the other side of the road to avoid you. When you are like me, people pretend that they are blind and that they can't see you. So, I choose the quietest time of the day to walk, in the middle of the day, in the intense heat.

I walk to find the one vital thing in my life, the one essential thing that I would die without. I walk to find water. Where I live, there is no accessible water. And if I don't walk to find water, I die of thirst.

On my last walk, I was praying to God that there would be a man for me. A man different from the rest, to stop the merry-go-round of past failed relationships. I am ready God, I am ready for the man you have for me. Please let me meet him. I didn't even know if He was listening because my people tell us that we need to worship on a particular mountain if we need to communicate with Him. But answers like that don't really happen in real life, do they? Well there were times back in ancient history when God did kind of provide potential partners for people beside wells... for Isaac, for Jacob.

Oh, you haven't heard of Jacob? He had built a well close by here. It's a pretty good source of water and he gave the land near it to his son Joseph. It's the same well that I frequent.

Now, usually there is no one around the well at the time of day I go to seek out water. And if they are sometimes they have ill-intentions for lonely prey like me.

But, there was someone at the well yesterday. Someone different.

He was a just a normal Jew, and my people hate Jews. They are constantly telling us that we need to worship in Jerusalem, that it's the only place to communicate with God. And the Jews? They hate us back. It's a long history, a lot like a family feud. Do you know what some of them say about us Samaritan women? They say we are menstruants from the cradle.

So I needed to sus him out. But first, I really needed to draw some water. As I looked deep into Jacob's well, I heard his voice behind me.

Do you mind grabbing me a drink too?

His request took me by surprise. Most people would have just drawn water themselves. Most people, most Jews, wouldn't have even spoken to me! Not only was I a woman, I was a Samaritan woman and Jewish men didn't speak to Samaritan women. I remember thinking: If he knew what sort of woman I was, even this strange Jew wouldn't speak to me. I hope he won't find out about my past. I steadied myself on the edge of the well as I turned around and I asked him why he would ask me, a Samaritan woman, a menustruant from the cradle for a drink.

I saw the pained expression on his face.

If you only knew who I was, you'd be the one asking me for a drink. I have access to water that doesn't come out of a well, flowing water that gives you life.

To say I was a little confused would be an understatement. As far as I could see, this guy had no water jar, no jug. Nothing for the water to be filled in. So there wasn't a way that this Jew could draw water from a well to give me a drink. -And who did he think he was anyway? Why would I ask him for a drink, when I'm the one with the water jar?!

I asked him what water he was talking about, and how he was going to get it. I may have sounded skeptical, but honestly what I really wanted to know was how his water was better than the water in Jacob's well. Maybe this water he was talking about was near Jerusalem. Wasn't that the center of all Jewish life?

This water, from Jacob's well? You keep coming back to draw from it. You keep coming to this well that makes you thirsty again. But the water I am talking about? It is so pure, so refreshing, so satisfying that anyone that drinks it will never be thirsty again!

I wasn't sure whether this Jew was trying to pull the wool over my eyes or whether he had some sort of ulterior motive. But, I thought I really had nothing to lose. What would he require from me to access this water? Men in my life had taken so much from me, I didn't really know who I was. Maybe with my experience with men, I could play him over before he played me. And if, just if, there was some way I had access to this water, I wouldn't have to come here again. I asked him to show me where to get this water.

Then, he told me to get my husband.

I stepped back against the well and regained my composure. This conversation had suddenly stepped over the boundary of what I was willing to talk about. I grasped around in the cloudiness of my brain for some sort of way to get out of this topic. The less he knew about me the better. I took a side-ways glance at the Jew and told him that I didn't have a husband.

And then this conversation took another drastic turn.

Yes, I know you don't have a husband. I also know that you have had five husbands -and you are not married to the man you are currently with.

I bit my lip to keep from blurting out the expletive that was in my head. He knows who I am. Who is this Jew who knows me, who knows my history and yet is still willing to converse with me? It took me a few minutes to grasp the Jew wasn't so much talking about physical water -which I admit is a big focus of our lives because of it's vitality- but more so spiritually. It was like he had pin -pointed exactly where I was really thirsty in my life. The thirst of being loved, being known. Maybe I had been coming to the wrong well -men, when really my searching can only be fulfilled in the One who made me? It was some time before I worked up the courage to speak again.

Feeling suddenly naked, I ventured, "Sir, you are obviously a prophet of some kind. So tell me, What is the truth with this worship debate between our people? Who is right? Tell me how to worship God".

He smiled.

Right now? the Jews are right -Your people only have believed the law given by Moses. God is revealed through the whole Scripture and we worship at the temple in Jerusalem because that's where David built the temple. But very soon? It won't matter where you worship. This will be a time where you can worship God in your heart, in spirit and in truth.

I saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes, almost as if he knew what it would take to make this come about.

"Oh", I said "just like when the Taheb -the restorer of the truth, worship and belief comes! The Messiah?"

I AM the Messiah.

I gasped and I felt the words "I AM" leave his lips and filter through my blood stream. My fingertips tingled and I dropped the water jar on the ground. I backed away two spaces and then I ran. It only occurred to me that I had forgotten to give him some water out of my water jar.

At first I didn't know where I was running. But, I do know that everybody is searching, everybody is unfulfilled. I told myself that I really need to tell others about my experience and what I found, because this man isn't some mere Jew. He knew me intimately in a way that no mere physical relationship can know a person.

He is staying in town for the next few days. Come and see him, find out for yourself who he is and find the living water!