It was noon, it was hot, and he was tired. Jesus sat down by Jacob’s well in Samaria while his disciples went foraging for food. He chose to stay behind, because he had an appointment to keep.
She was on her way to draw water in the middle of the day, when no one else would be around. No rude whispers, condescending stares, or pretentious chatter from neighbours. She saw Jesus, but minded her own business. After all, there were party lines that she isn’t supposed to cross.
“Will you give me a drink?” he asked.
Surprised, she remarked, “How can you ask me that question?”
Many of us know the story. In recent months, I’ve come to realise that it is my story, too.
Five failed relationships. The last relationship being one of convenience, and without commitment. I couldn’t expect anyone to give me more than that, not after I’ve messed up so many times. I avoided my relatives, my friends – anyone who has an opinion on how I should live my life. I did what I can to get through the day. And in the evening, when the sun goes down, I go back to my room, longing for the love that has eluded me.
And then I found myself at Jacob’s well. “I know you,” Jesus says. “And I love you, still.”
Despite that, I struggled to let go. It is easier to cling to something – even a non-ideal setup – than to have nothing.
“If you only knew what I have to offer you,” he continued. “You don’t have to live this way. Life is more than what you see now.”
I have turned to earthly relationships to fill the void in my heart. I had forgotten to draw deeply from the well of God’s love. And I somehow got lost in the desert until my soul had run dry.
When I had reached the end of myself, Jesus was there, offering me a drink that ultimately satisfies.