Friday, March 16, 2012

John 4

The Woman of Samaria

I am actually tempted to leave the story where it ended up yesterday, but I'm going to at least attempt to write the rest. Besides, the last part is what links her to Joanna.

THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA

I wanted to shout. I nearly ran straight for the town - trying to find every woman, man, child and tell them what I had found. For so long I had felt like I moved in shadows, that I had been rendered dumb, that if I spoke it would sound only like the rustling of the wind. But none of it was true. Always, always, I had my voice.

It was a spring inside of me, never ending, ever flowing, pouring out into the world. And I had been trying to draw it from a well.

But there was one more thing I had to know.

"I know that the Messiah is coming. When he comes he will explain everything to us."

And he smiled gently again, almost amused that I still could not quite say it - so many years of not being able to say what I really meant.

"I, the one speaking to you, I am he."

Perhaps it looked as if the return of his companions frightened me away, but I knew that He knew better. I was off, I was off to overflow, the spring inside of my was shooting forth like a geyser, trapped too long beneath the earth. Shooting out of the well. It was all wrong. We had it all wrong. The love of God knew no bounds, no restrictions. His love was not earned by your adherence to a code nor was it a thing you could soil with any earthly act. It was a spring of living water, unending and everflowing. All you had to do was drink.

"Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?"

I phrased it as a question. I knew my audience, but I ran shouting, spilling over onto the desert sands.

Come see a man who told me everything I ever did and loved me anyway. Come see a holy man who did not look down on my fallen state. Come see a prophet who knew my every fault and treated me only as fellow child of God. Could this be the Messiah? Not a figure of fire and judgment and punishment and war. Not a purging of all that steps outside of narrow precepts. A man who extends love to all, knowing every fault. Could this be the Messiah? Could we possibly be that lucky? Could we possibly be that blessed? Could we possibly be that loved?