Water from a Deep Well

John 4:7-15

June 25, 2023 • Mount Pleasant UMC

I have a complicated history with water. For one, I can’t swim, but that really has nothing to do with the message this morning. For two, I’ve always known I should drink more water. I’ve even had nutritionists and other medical people tell me so through the years. And I would nod, and just do what I wanted to do. But then, a few weeks ago, my cardiac rehab nurse was taking my blood pressure, frowned, and said one thing to me: “You need to be drinking more water.” Well, I knew that, but now it was tied to my heart health, and there was part of me that said, “I have come so far in this rehab journey, I am not going to give up now.” So I texted Kristin and told her I needed to be reminded to drink water at the office, and you know what? She’s really good at doing that! When I finally saw a real need, a real problem that could be taken care of simply by drinking more water, I was moved to action, moved to change. Sometimes you just need a good look at what life could be like if you don’t make the changes you need to.

This morning, we’re doing something I’ve never done before. Usually I start a sermon series and carry it through to completion without a break. But the calendar this year has had some adjustments, so we’re going to start a new series today, then start a new series next week and come back to this one later. It will all be fine. I will be fine. I can handle this. Think of today as sort of a “preview” of an upcoming series. It’s fine. So we are going to spend some time today and then again in August looking at what we’re calling, “Searching Questions.” By that I mean this: when people are searching for meaning in their lives, what questions are they asking? Oddly enough, the questions people ask today are the same sorts of questions people have been asking for centuries—from the beginning of time, really. And so we will be looking at Biblical characters to not only get a sense of the question but also what answers the Christian faith might have for those who seek.

In the church, through the centuries, we’ve had a love-hate relationship with questions. One of my heroes, Steve Jobs, was raised in a Lutheran church but when he was thirteen years old, Jobs went to his pastor and asked, “If I raise my finger, will God know which one I’m going to raise even before I do it?” The pastor said yes, God knows everything. Jobs then showed him a cover story from Life Magazine that showed starving children. “Does God know about this and what’s going to happen to those children?” The pastor said, “Steve, I know you don’t understand, but yes, God knows about that.” Jobs walked out of the church that day, saying he didn’t want anything to do with worshipping a God like that. He never went back (Isaacson, Steve Jobs)—because a pastor didn’t really know how to handle his questions. That’s been part of the ongoing matter of people who are “deconstructing” their faith; people are asking questions that many in the church are afraid to approach. We’ve got to learn to love questions. Jesus did, and so should we.

One of the times Jesus engaged someone with questions took place in a place he should not have been with a person he should not have talked to. At least culturally speaking, Jesus, a Jewish rabbi, had no business speaking with a Samaritan woman. In his world, married men did not even speak to their wives in public, and a single man would be expected to never speak to or touch a woman at any time (Burge, NIV Application Commentary: John, pg. 142). So imagine the woman’s surprise when she approaches the well at noon—in the heat of the day, at a time when no one else should have been around—and she sees a single man there. A rabbi, no less. A religious teacher. A Jewish religious teacher. She knew—everyone knew—that, as John says, “Jews do not associate with Samaritans” (4:9). The phrase John uses there can also mean they do not share their dishes with, or “use together with.” It was widely believed that if a person was spiritually impure, that impurity could be passed through physical contact. In other words, you could spread spiritual germs or religious cooties just by being around someone who wasn’t “clean.” So I imagine when she sees Jesus there by the well, she doesn’t know what to do next. She has come here to the well at noon to avoid people, which she has largely been successful at, except for this one pesky rabbi (cf. Whitacre, John [IVP], pgs 103-104; Burge 142).

This Samaritan woman has had a hard life. John isn’t meaning to give us her biography, because she’s not really the point of the story, but he does tell us just enough about her. She’s had five husbands and is living with another man (4:18). There is a lot of speculation down through the centuries as to the why’s and the what for’s, but that’s also not the point of this story. The stories John picks to tell about Jesus’ ministry are usually metaphorical, pointing to larger truths—not untrue, but more true than what they at first appear to be. This story is not so much about the woman and her life as it is about her seeking and searching. She comes to the well, presumably to get water for the day, but Jesus knows she is actually seeking something much deeper, much more satisfying, and that’s exactly where he takes the conversation by first asking her for a drink of water. When she responds that he shouldn’t be asking her for that, he has her where he wants her. Listen to his response: “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water” (4:10).

That’s what she’s looking for, Jesus knows. Living water. That phrase, to the first century hearers, brought up a particular image. Living water is water that is free flowing, like from a spring or a river. It’s water that moves, not water that sits still like in a well, cistern or pond. Living water was the only water that could be used in Jewish ritual washings. A couple of chapters over, Jesus will use this same image again. He’s at the Feast of Tabernacles and every day of that feast featured a water ceremony that involved singing and a procession from the Gihon Spring to the Water Gate, where the priest would pour out a golden pitcher of water on the altar. On the last day of the festival, this was done seven times, and in the midst of one of those times, Jesus stands up and says, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” And then John whispers to his audience and says, “By this he meant the Spirit” (7:37-39; Burge 226-227). Living water was a powerful symbol, and one this woman and anyone else around would have understood, but here’s the kicker: Sychar, where this woman lives, has no rivers or streams. That’s why their ancestor Jacob had dug a well here centuries before. Sychar has no living water. Jesus is offering her something that does not exist in the area, and maybe something she has never seen.

But, again, that’s sort of John’s point in telling the story. Jesus isn’t really offering her water. He’s offering her something much deeper, much more lasting. “Jesus is offering her eternal life, but she thinks he is talking about indoor plumbing” (Whitacre 104). Jesus (who never actually gets the drink he asks for, by the way) knows that the water in the well, while temporarily satisfying, will eventually leave her thirsty again. But the water he offers will not; it will continually satisfy those who drink it.

John says Jesus “had to go through Samaria” (4:4), but that’s not literally true. There were many other routes he could have taken. Yes, it was the shorter route, but a whole lot of people did usually take other routes, just to avoid being touched by Samaritan soil (Whitacre 101). No, Jesus didn’t have to go through Samaria geographically. I believe what John is saying is more like this: “Jesus had to go through Samaria because there was a woman there who not only needed what he had to offer but would spread it to all of her neighbors.” I believe Jesus made this journey just to talk to this woman. But, honestly, she was an unlikely candidate for what Jesus had in mind. I serve on our Annual Conference’s Board of Ordained Ministry, and we interview candidates for ordination, determining if they are fit for pastoral ministry in Indiana. If this woman came to us, with five past husbands, living with a man she isn’t married to, religiously confused (she gets into religious arguments with Jesus in the next few verses), alone, feeling unloved, and just basically broken—I don’t think her prospects would be very good for moving toward ordination. And yet it is to her that Jesus comes. He always moves toward the broken and that’s why he had to go through Samaria.

And he had to go through your neighborhood, too. For many of us, the moment we really met Jesus was at a low point in our lives. Oh, it’s possible, even probable for those of us who grew up in the church, that we made a commitment to Jesus at a different moment, maybe in Sunday School or at church camp or on a mission trip. Maybe in the quiet of your bedroom or the noisiness of a worship service. This woman at the well was, to the best of her ability, an adherent to her faith. She knows all about what her people taught, professed and believed. She argues with Jesus about it all. But for a lot of us, there’s a difference between when we made a commitment to Jesus and when we really met Jesus. It’s the difference between the head and the heart. The great Christian thinker of the last century, C. S. Lewis, spent much of his early life as an unbeliever, and then he became what he called a theist. He believed in God, but not necessarily in Jesus. There was great turmoil in Lewis’ heart and mind as he tried to figure it all out. But then came the moment when he received living water. He wrote about it this way: “I know very well when, but hardly how, the final step was taken. I was driven to Whipsnade [Zoo] one sunny morning. When I set out I did not believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and when we reached the zoo I did” (qtd. in Downing, The Most Reluctant Convert, pg. 150). Somewhere along the road, C. S. Lewis encountered Jesus. Jesus had to go to Whipsnade Zoo that day.

What’s your story? When was the time when you encountered Jesus? Take a listen to one of our members who clearly remembers that transition, that change.

VIDEO: Denny Jarvis

Sometimes we have to be really broken before we can receive the living water Jesus offers, the water that comes from a very deep well. There is a painting I encountered many years ago that has remained stuck in my head and heart. It’s by Jerry Dunnam, and when you take the first glance at it, it appears to just be a swirl of color, blues and purples and whites. But when you look closer, you can see a person in the middle of the swirl with their arms outstretched. The painting is called “Grace,” because grace rushes lower. Just as water always flows to the lowest place, God’s grace always seeks out the lowest place in our lives and seeks to enter there. When we are proud and self-sufficient, God can’t get in. When we are broken, Jesus is there, waiting on us, ready to restore and heal us if we will receive it. Jesus had to go through Samaria.

The woman at the well is intrigued, and she asks Jesus, “Where can you get this living water?” When I read that, I hear in her voice some doubt, because, as she points out, he does not have a bucket and she knows there is no living water in the area. But I also have hope, because I believe she hears something in Jesus’ voice and senses something in his presence that he actually can come through with what he promises. I believe, especially as the conversation progresses, she knows there is something different about it and that he’s offering something at the same time more real than she at first imagined. That’s why before you know it, she’s saying, “Sir, give me this water…” (4:15). When we get to that point, how will Jesus bring healing to the broken places in our lives?

Two things I want to suggest, none of which will be a surprise if you’ve heard me preach for very long. The first way, I believe, Jesus heals us is through the church. Now, I know you expect a pastor to say that, but the truth is that the church is God’s Plan A for reaching the world and there is no Plan B. And, yes, believe me, I know (maybe even more than you do) that the church is broken (and by that I mean the ‘big C’ church, not Mount Pleasant in particular, though we are part of that ‘big C’ church). The church is not perfect, and the church does not always reflect the teachings and values of Jesus. We have often failed to offer people living water; too often, we have offered stagnant water that does not satisfy and might even do harm. It’s easy to name the things the church has done or failed to do that contradict what Jesus said and did. It’s easy to point fingers. And yes, I believe the church has to be better than it is right now. We in the church (again, ‘big C’ church) these days are too busy fighting and arguing over secondary issues rather than pointing people to the gospel of Jesus Christ. The founder of our Methodist tradition, John Wesley, reminds us that we can disagree on things and still work together, serve together, follow Jesus together. Wesley told the believers of his day, “If you heart is as my heart—if you love God and all humankind—I ask no more: ‘Give me your hand’” (Kinghorn, John Wesley on Christian Practice, pg. 115). So, yes, the church must be better than we’ve been but just because we’re not perfect doesn’t mean we throw the whole thing out.

I celebrate every time we welcome new members, as we do today, because I believe in the importance of being part of the organization, the group that Jesus intended to be there for the healing of persons. The church exists, as our Discipline says, “to provide for the maintenance of worship, the edification of believers, and the redemption of the world” (2016, pg. 25). The church is the place where we are formed, where we are challenged to be more like Jesus, where “iron sharpens iron” (cf. Proverbs 27:17). A single burning coal removed from a fire pretty soon burns out and becomes cold, but in the fire, it provides heat and warmth and light. The same is true for believers. In the church, we are encouraged and challenged and shaped. We find healing for our brokenness. Outside of the church, we burn out and become cold to the faith. Jesus gave the church so people could find healing and hope.

But he also gives us individuals whom he places in our lives to provide healing. When the woman at the well finally realizes exactly who Jesus is, she runs back to Sychar and tells everyone. She invites them to come see the man who “told me everything I ever did” (4:39). And they do, and they believe. And though the text doesn’t say it, the implication is that she found people who no longer turned her out. Because of Jesus, she found people who would love her. Because of Jesus, so can we, maybe through a small group. I’ve said it many times before, that in this size of a congregation, you need something more than Sunday mornings if you want to experience all that Jesus offers. You need a small group who will love you and care for you and pray for you and text you just to check on you when life is hard. I was at the Rex game when the tragic shooting happened in our neighborhood a week and a half ago, and while I was getting ready to pray out on the field, I got a text from someone in our LifeGroup that asked if we were okay. I had no idea what was happening, but once I found out, I was so glad people cared enough to reach out. You need people who will surround you in the good times and in the bad.

And then sometimes God brings a person into your life who will challenge you, who is not afraid to ask the hard questions, and who will not run away even when the conversation is hard. In Celtic Christianity, the word for that is anam cara, which translates to “soul friend.” For the Celts, it was “unthinkable” that any follower of Jesus would try to go it alone, so they talked about this friendship that would strengthen a person’s soul. Here’s how one writer describes it: “With the anam cara, you can share your innermost self, your mind and your heart. This friendship was an act of recognition and belonging. When you had an anam cara, your friendship cut across all convention, morality and category. You were joined in an ancient and eternal way with the friend of your soul” (Greig, How to Hear God, pgs. 203-204). The Biblical model for that is found in Ephesians 4:15 (“speaking the truth in love”) and Hebrews 10:24 (“spur one another on toward love and good deeds”). An anam cara is a safe place, and it’s a delight, not a duty. From ancient times, people of faith have known that we need people who pour into our lives, people who challenge us, all the while pointing us toward Jesus. There is healing found in small groups and soul friends.

Where can I get this living water? Jesus and the woman talk about a lot of things, but at the heart of her questions and at the heart of the questions of people all around you and me today is this one: where can I find something that gives life? Where can I get this living water? As Denny shared, and as you’ve heard in the many vision videos over the last few weeks, there are a lot of places people look for living water today. Drugs, alcohol, political power, corporate influence, even church control. Richard Foster says the biggest challenges to the spiritual life are money, sex and power. But none of those things, none of those approaches brings longterm satisfaction the way living water does. And the world needs to know that. Especially today! So let me ask you this: have you found living water? Have you encountered Jesus or do you just believe in him? Where can I get this living water? From the nail-scarred hands of the savior of the world. He is here, and he is offering it to you just like he did to the woman at the well. Will you receive it as she did?

So, as I mentioned a few moments ago, Jesus asks this woman for a drink of water, which is the only thing he never gets out of this whole conversation. I imagine that all this talk about water has maybe made you a little thirsty, so this morning as you leave worship, we have a MTP-branded bottle of water for you. Spring water, by the way, which is in fact living water. You’re invited to take one and as you drink it today or this week, give thanks for the spiritual living water Jesus gives you. But I also want you to think about who you know who needs living water. Who around you is asking for water from a deep well? Then take the chance and invite them to this place, to come with you to the place where you have found living water. Because Jesus will give it to everyone who asks, even to a messed-up broken Samaritan woman, even to you and to me. Thanks be to God! Let’s pray.