The Day I Drank Living Water

2nd Sunday in Lent, 3/20/11
John 4:5-26

(This is a 1st person sermon in which Pastor Voss assumed the character of the woman at the well.)

The Day I Drank Living Water


I’m amazed at the things you people take for granted. You woke up this morning, walked into your clean, cozy bathroom, turned the knob on the faucet and out came as much clean, cool drinking water as you wanted. I’ll bet you didn’t even give another thought to what a blessing that is. You know, there are people in this world today that don’t have running water. They have to carry it to their homes each day. Can you imagine doing that?

That was one of my daily chores 2,000 years ago. To be honest, the people of my town of Sychar felt blessed to have a well to draw water from. Every day it was one of the duties of the women to carry a clay pot to the local well and draw as much water as we could carry back to our homes. Think about how critical that trip was. We used that water for cooking and drinking and cleaning and washing. That water was like gold to us.

As I mentioned, it was the duty of the women in the town to draw water each day. They often went together. The daily chore had become a social function. It was one of those times when the women were able to socialize, share their problems and to offer help to one another. It was our Facebook page.

But I wasn’t included. You see, the other women avoided me. They didn’t want to share their lives with me and they didn’t want to hear a single thing about my life. If I had problems, the women of the town figured I had brought them on myself. In fact, they figured I had it coming to me. I’ll explain why a little later.

Actually, on the greatest day in my life it was fortunate for me that I went to the well each day all alone. As I made my way to the well, the large jug, although empty, was already becoming a burden, and I pondered as I often did on that trip where my life was headed. I came up with the same answer I had countless times before. Nowhere. My life was headed nowhere, at least nowhere good. I wasn’t getting any younger and had no one to count on to help me now or in the years to come. It seemed like all I did each day was to work myself to the point of exhaustion simply trying to stay alive that day, only to fall asleep at night and do it all over again. Is that all life is? Is there no other hope? What’s the point of it all?

I was pondering those questions so intently as a neared the well that I didn’t even notice him until I walked right up to the well and realized I had to stop thinking about my useless life and start concentrating on drawing the day’s water. A man at the well. How unusual! Even more unusual, he was a Jewish man. You don’t see many Jewish men making their way through the country of Samaria. You see, there’s no love lost between us Samaritans and the Jews. We despise each other and it runs deep. Jews will walk miles out of their way to avoid walking through our area, but here was this Jewish man, sitting at our well. I decided immediately I would avoid any contact with him. That’s the way he probably wanted it anyway, if he was a typical Jew.

Well, I learned quickly that he wasn’t a typical Jew. No sooner had I decided to avoid him when he asked me, “Will you give me a drink?” I was stunned—not only because he spoke to me, a Samaritan and a woman at that, but that he actually asked me for a drink. Most Jews wouldn’t even touch something that had been touched by a Samaritan, let alone bring it to their lips and drink from it.

So I explained my surprise. “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” He was smashing every one of my pre-conceived notions about Jews. But he didn’t seem to think this was out of the ordinary at all.

In fact, he replied to me with something about some living water. He also implied that there was something special about himself and that he had the ability to supply me with this living water. I figured the guy was just a little weird, probably a little delusional, but there was something about him that made me want to continue this conversation. Being an outcast, I decided to take advantage of the situation in which someone actually wanted to have something to do with me.

So I challenged him on who he was—better yet, on who he thought he was and his claim to have living water. I said, “Sir, you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us this well?” Surely a common Jewish man didn’t think he was greater than the patriarch Jacob.

He avoided a direct answer to my challenge and instead offered more information on this living water he offered. He said, “Whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst again.” Then he added the information that this water brought eternal life. And then I recalled my daily walk to this well and my anguish over my life that seemed to be going nowhere. Eternal life? I had to hear more. So I asked him for some of this living water.

But he changed the subject on me. In fact, his next comment came right out of left field. He said, “Go call your husband and come back.”

That’s one of my sore subjects. It’s what caused the women of Sychar to avoid me completely. It’s also one of the reasons I felt all alone in this world with no future in sight and no idea who was going to help me as the years passed. I told him, “I don’t have a husband.”

And then he lowered the boom on my meaningless life. He exposed the biggest problem in my life. “You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband.” I was 0-5 in the husband department and the guy I was living with wouldn’t make a commitment to me. I guess I don’t blame him. Five other men came the same conclusion—they no longer wanted me to be their wife. Why should this sixth man? But there was so much truth to what he said. He revealed my biggest problem and my sin. And in doing so, he revealed who he was and it wasn’t lost on me. I said, “Sir, I can see that you are a prophet.”

And since this was the sorest subject of my life and I didn’t care to discuss it any longer with a stranger, I changed the subject. By calling him a prophet, I led him into the subject of religion. It was an age-old debate between Jews and Samaritans. Where to worship. Which scrolls from which prophets were authoritative and which ones weren’t. Which rules to follow in worship. I wanted to discuss those things, rather than my sordid life.

But I was no match for him on this topic either. He wouldn’t engage in a debate on the place to worship. He stated that soon it wouldn’t matter where we worship. That argument would end when people would begin offering the Father true worship—worship full of spirit and truth. He implied that worship wasn’t about observing rules and regulations, but of a changed spirit, a spirit that recognizes its own unworthiness because of sin and embraces the grace and mercy of God. That’s truth.

A truth that I knew the Messiah would reveal to us. You see, I wasn’t very learned in the books of the Old Testament, but we Samaritans were looking for the Messiah to come just like the Jews were. Our ideas about the Messiah differed from theirs, but we looked for him to come all the same.

And I’ll never forget what happened next. It was the day I drank living water. The Jewish man at the well told me, “I who speak to you am he.” I was speaking with none other than the Messiah, the promised Savior! Here was the Son of God in human flesh and blood. Here was my Savior, the one who suddenly brought meaning to my life—eternal meaning. In him I found forgiveness for my past—my secret sins as well as my all-too-public sins. By faith in him I had a relationship with him—the only relationship that truly matters because it’s the only one that will last forever. He pulled me up out of my spiritual despair and filled me with heavenly hope. And now my life had meaning—to live to his glory all the rest of my days on earth and eternally in heaven.

That’s the day I drank living water. I’ll never forget it.

How about you? Maybe you have a hard time identifying with my life. How many failed relationships have you been through? But even if that isn’t your main issue, you have something else. And don’t tell me you don’t have one. Try telling that to Jesus. He’ll expose it just like he did mine. But you see, he has to do that. Without it, I felt no thirst for what he had to offer me. Perhaps you noticed that Jesus didn’t offer to wave his almighty hand over my life and make it all better. That’s not what he’s about. He all about offering living water—his forgiveness. But if you refuse to recognize your need for forgiveness, then you feel no need for Christ.

This season of Lent certainly helps you see it. Jesus didn’t die for his own sins; he died for the world’s sins—yours and mine. Without that death as the payment for our sins, we’d be lost and condemned forever.

But thanks be to God, he has revealed himself to you as your Savior! He has brought you his living water. You received it at your baptisms. He offers it every time you hear, read and study his word. He offers it to you through his body and blood in the Lord’s Supper.

Today you’re drinking living water. Cherish it! Make sure you drink it every day of your life! Amen.