“I have no husband.” –vs. 17
What must she have been feeling, when she said those words to Jesus?
To me, the crux of this passage, the turning point of the action, is not where Jesus speaks of the living water. It is here, where this woman’s sin, her need, her thirst, are laid bare. Was she trying to hide it? Was she struck with fear and apprehension when he told her, “Go get your husband…” (vs. 16)? Did she try to straighten her back, gather her lost pride, glare at him in defensiveness? Did her own heart accuse her about her past? Five lost men. Five failures. Five lives down the drain. Was it so much hurt and guilt that now she had given up, and that’s why this time she hadn’t bothered to make a real investment?
And here was this man who, in a moment, a question, a sentence, laid bare all of that. Without judgment. He saw her – saw her sin and saw her truth, all in one brief moment.
And he spoke to her. The disciples came, and didn’t. They were like I am, wandering around looking at other people’s faces, blind to the roiling messes behind. They saw a Samaritan, and a woman at that, and ignored her just like a good Jewish man should. And she left – no surprise. It’s interesting that the text makes the observation that none of them even asked her why she was talking to Jesus, or asked Jesus why he was talking to her – as if the author was flummoxed by the disciples’ obliviousness.
But Jesus’ attention, his sight into her life, had made an impression on this woman. Her entire town was impressed by it. They, too, thirsted for the living water he gave. Just like all the people I pass by in my life. Thirsty. But without His sight, I would never know it.
My heart begs your sight, Jesus. Sight that sees through the pride, to the sin. Through the sin, to the guilt. Through the guilt to the hurt. Through all that cloud and fog, to me. To all the other people in my life. You saw her, the thirsty woman, and drew her out. Teach me how to do the same.
(note: bible passages taken from the New Century Version, (c)2001)