He Wanted a Drink
It was hot. Unbearably hot. And humid. The kind of day you just want to immerse yourself in cool, clear water. Dunk your head under. Drink it in by the gallon. Flood yourself with cool relief.
But there was no relief.
The closest water was seventy-five feet down, painfully deep, and there was no rope. No bucket. He looked down into the blackness and smelled the moisture. A drop of sweat dripped from his forehead and he waited for the sound of contact.
Nothing.
She sees him sitting there as she approaches the well. She wonders what he's doing there. Unusual. He's alone. He looks tired. And hot. She guesses that he'd like something to drink.
But she can't help a sarcastic remark when he asks for one. Really. Men haven't been what she'd hoped they would be. From her experiences, men didn't deserve much respect. And they certainly shouldn't be asking her for any more favors.
What? Me give you a drink? I don't think so.
Oh boy.
So he pulls a fast one on her -- if you knew Who I was, sista, you'd be asking ME for water. Yep. You'll never get thirsty again. You'll be like a spring -- gushing fountains of water all over the place.
{Eh?? What is he talking about? He thinks he's pretty special...what could be better than the water from his ancient well? What kind of water is he talking about?}
This is the moment where every sound seems ten times louder. The bird songs shriller. The wind whistles louder, tugging at her hair. She can hear the blood rushing through her veins. Who is she talking to?
Their conversation takes them from strangers to woah-you-know-way-too-much-about-me in less than five minutes. She looks deep into his blue-gray eyes, considering.
He returns her gaze. His eyes speak acceptance, care, longing.
She questions.
He comforts.
She stares at Him. It's the way he talks. The dry lips that move with such concern for her, forgetting their own desires. It's the way he looks at her -- knowing it all, yet still full of compassion and love. She feels like hugging him, then sees other men approaching.
So she freezes, leaves everything she was carrying, and runs away.
He knows he'll see her again. He knows she's bursting with excitement. He knows fulfillment that quenches spiritual thirst. He knows God.
What are you waiting for? What are you looking for?
But there was no relief.
The closest water was seventy-five feet down, painfully deep, and there was no rope. No bucket. He looked down into the blackness and smelled the moisture. A drop of sweat dripped from his forehead and he waited for the sound of contact.
Nothing.
She sees him sitting there as she approaches the well. She wonders what he's doing there. Unusual. He's alone. He looks tired. And hot. She guesses that he'd like something to drink.
But she can't help a sarcastic remark when he asks for one. Really. Men haven't been what she'd hoped they would be. From her experiences, men didn't deserve much respect. And they certainly shouldn't be asking her for any more favors.
What? Me give you a drink? I don't think so.
Oh boy.
So he pulls a fast one on her -- if you knew Who I was, sista, you'd be asking ME for water. Yep. You'll never get thirsty again. You'll be like a spring -- gushing fountains of water all over the place.
{Eh?? What is he talking about? He thinks he's pretty special...what could be better than the water from his ancient well? What kind of water is he talking about?}
This is the moment where every sound seems ten times louder. The bird songs shriller. The wind whistles louder, tugging at her hair. She can hear the blood rushing through her veins. Who is she talking to?
Their conversation takes them from strangers to woah-you-know-way-too-much-about-me in less than five minutes. She looks deep into his blue-gray eyes, considering.
He returns her gaze. His eyes speak acceptance, care, longing.
She questions.
He comforts.
"...the time is coming -- it has, in fact, come -- when what you're called will not matter and where you go to worship will not matter. It's who you are and the way you live that count before God. Your worship must engage your spirit in the pursuit of truth. That's the kind of people the Father is out looking for: those who are simply and honestly themselves before Him in their worship."
John 4: 23, 24 The MessageI am HE, He says. You don't have to wait any longer or look any further.
She stares at Him. It's the way he talks. The dry lips that move with such concern for her, forgetting their own desires. It's the way he looks at her -- knowing it all, yet still full of compassion and love. She feels like hugging him, then sees other men approaching.
So she freezes, leaves everything she was carrying, and runs away.
He knows he'll see her again. He knows she's bursting with excitement. He knows fulfillment that quenches spiritual thirst. He knows God.
What are you waiting for? What are you looking for?