Signora Sheila

She walked a lonely road, a water jar on her shoulder, that Samaritan woman. In the hottest part of the day she made the way, her solitary way, to the village well. Only after the others had returned to their own homes did she venture out. They did not welcome her company. No more than she, knowing they despised her, cared for theirs. 

Not a good woman

“Not a good woman!” they sniped, while looking down their haughty noses at her, if they deigned to look her way at all. So she preferred the scorching sun to their clicking tongues and haughty looks.

And wiping her sweaty brow, she found herself wishing that she could as easily wipe awa her past as easily. “But it might as well be carved in stone,” she thought. “Nothing in the world could ever undo it. Or take away the shame.”

But all in all, she thought, life wasn’t so bad. She’d found a man who treated her well. Much older, but at least he was kind and caring to her and the child. Although she’d rather live alone. Free from the stigma of living out-of-wedlock. But without him, starvation would have stared her in the face.

If only the Messiah would come

“I know the Messiah is coming,” she thought. “Coming to set us free. Maybe that could change things, even for me.” And then she saw him sitting there. No one was ever there at noon. But there he was. And when she noticed his prayer shawl, she realized that he wasn’t even a local, but a Jew!

A stranger, and a Jewish one at that. And me, a woman, here alone! What will he think of my coming here alone, and at this hour? But seeing he paid her no attention, she approached cautiously. Hoping to pass unobserved.

“Give me a drink,” he said, startling her, but not frightening her.

“How can you, a Jew, ask me for a drink?” she asked, knowing full well that Jews never shared a Samaritan’s cup.

Eternal words

And that’s when he spoke the words that were forever etced on her miind and soul. And deep in her heart.

“If you knew who it is that says to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you the living water.”

She remembered asking how he could draw this life-giving water, since he had no jar. And he replied, “Whoever drinks this water will be thirsty again. But whoever drinks the water that I will give him will never thirs again. It will be a spring of water welling up in him to eternal life.”

A teacher… and there was something special about him! She could learn from him. Maybe he could even tell her about the Messiah!

And then he told her everything she had ever done in her life! He knew that she’d had five husbands, and that even then she was unmarried. But he didn’t shy away from her. There was love and acceptance in his eyes and in his voice. And it gave her courage to express her longing for the Messiah, the Deliverer. The chance to be free.

“I am He. I Am the Messiah,” he said. And she knew that He had spoken the truth. She realized that she had known it almost from the beginning.

The long-awaited Messiah!

“The Messiah, the long-awaited Messiah!” She had to share such news! News of one who could give life-giving water – even to one like her! So she left her water pot and ran to share the new water she’d found. Life-giving water! “Come and see the man who told me everything I’ve ever done,” she told them. “Could he be the Messiah?”

“The Messiah has come?” they marveled. “And he came to one like her? We must go and see!”

This invitation is still valid today. Christ offers his living water to everyone. He offers it to you and to me. And he still offers it to all those whose lives seem broken beyond repair. Like the Samaritan woman, and like many of us.

To all who will listen he says, “Come and drink the living water. Come and be changed forever.”

Jesus said, ‘Everyone who drinks from this water will get thirsty again. But whoever drinks from the water that I will give him will never get thirsty again. In fact, the water I will give him will become a well of water springing up in him for eternal life.’

John 4:13-14 CSB

📷 Image credits: all images are by www.LumoProject.com