I feel apathetic, disheartened, and disillusioned. I am disappointed in myself and in people around me. None of us can seem to overcome what we have done and said and been to each other. I feel mired in the heaviness of humanity, and specifically my own life. Every action — where I go, what I wear, with whom I speak, what I say, what I eat, where I shop — seems to require so much thought, strategy, and analyzing. I exhaust myself trying to get through each day, each encounter, and each conversation. The pressure feels too great. I am tired of this rat race.
I imagine how the Samaritan woman feels. She is a lowly woman, she is of mixed race, she is looked down upon, and she is likely the town whore. She is on the bottom rung of society.
Theologians have made much about the fact that she comes to the well at noon. The well was a morning social chore. In the cool hours of the early morning the town women would catch up around their “water cooler.” The Samaritan woman is avoiding the company of other women. She is visiting the well at noon, the hottest part of the day, when every one else will be gone. She is finished with interactions. She is marginalized, ostracized, and judged, and she is done with it all. She is simply surviving.
Jesus comes to the well, not to get water, but rather to give this woman life. He takes her from her lonely, self-loathing, abused self, and breathes into her soul a new purpose, a new calling and above all, a new understanding of her value and worth. She receives this good news. The living water that has sprung up inside her is so bubbly that she cannot keep it to herself. She spreads the message so that others will find the living water.
I see myself headed to the well. I am weary. I am lonely. I am done. Ahead, I see Him waiting. He is not rushing toward me; He is letting me come when I am ready. How much longer will I try to do it my way? How much longer will I play by the rules of my culture? How long until I drink in the living water?