Lent and the Woman Who gave Up Thirst

This is the fifth in a series of Lenten devotions. The theme is not so much what is given up for lent, but what is taken up in the living of the Kingdom life.      Back story is John 4...

Word reached the little Samaritan village of Sychar by Sunday evening. Most of Saturday was observed as Sabbath and the messengers had no real  incentive to announce another Roman crucifixion to an obscure village, especially a Samaritan one. It was thirty miles from Jerusalem, a good day and a half's journey. But these travelers had been there and brought word about the one many thought was the messiah, a man named Jesus, who had been executed in Jerusalem. They knew many details, but didn't know of Jesus' relationship with this village. The village fathers filled them in as they filled the fathers in on the details of the trial and crucifixion. The mood grew grim. Questions, doubts..wasn't he...maybe he wasn't?  But look at what he said and did. Who else could have...but messiah doesn't get killed, does he....The questions hung in air around the little council. No one had answers, just other questions.

It was noted that Photini should be told. The Elder said he would have his daughter go over the Photini's house and have her come to the meeting. Photini had first met Jesus out by Jacob's well and brought him to the village. Her story was one of grace and the power to change but it wasn't her story but his presence and teaching with the rest of the village that won their allegiance. This news would be met with a mixture of grief, anger, confusion, and indignation. It was news that might very well break Photini's heart.

Photini came to the meeting and came with some fear. Why were they summoning her? Her concern was founded on her past. Had another skeleton arisen? Would something she had said or done in the past upset her new life of faith in Jesus?  Had not she now known true love? Had not she now known what a real family, husband and contentment truly meant? She shuddered a bit as she entered the meeting room but the peace she had long felt in her heart felt unshakable. The elders and the messengers broke the news to her. Her reaction surprised them. Photini cried a little. She remained quiet and prayed a moment. Then she asked for a jug of water. It was brought to her. She drank from it, slowly at first and then turned the jug straight up and let the water run down her chin, neck, and the front of her robe in a little river. She was drenched.

Photini spoke. "Gentlemen, dear elders, don't despair. If you remember, Jesus told us many things the two days he was with us. Remember, we later discussed the teachings but were confused and wondered about his teaching about his own death. Now that it has happened, just remember, it is as it has to be. But I do not believe we have heard the rest of the story quite yet."

"Photini, how can you be so sure? Jesus is dead. He can't be the messiah if he is dead, can he?''
"All I know is that he promised I if drank of the water of life, I would never be thirsty again. When my mouth and throat are parched and even when I am confused or fearful, I always take a drink of water to remember that I need never thirst in my heart again. I don't know everything the news of his crucifixion means. I know I hurt for his pain. But I know in my heart, whose thirst is still quenched, that we have not heard the end of this story. That river of life that has brought contentment and peace to my heart is still flowing. I feel it. I know it. There is more to come."

The elders were silent. What could be said? Some agreed in silence. Some doubted in silence. They went home in silence.

Monday morning came. Photini, though now welcomed to join the other women going out to the well to draw the day's water, stayed behind. She waited until noon, remembering her previous days of loneliness and isolation, even to the point of drawing water at an odd time to not face the stares of other women. It was at this time, at this well, she met the savior. It was here she began to share Jesus and not just her bed with a series of men. It was here she gave up thirsting after those things that never quench her greatest needs and received the Living Water. She found a deep well in her own heart. The news from Jerusalem about last Friday was troubling, hard, sad. And yet the River was still flowing in her heart. She just knew.

Looking down the Jerusalem road, she saw a traveler coming. He was walking fast, almost running. He walked as one on a mission-relentless, excited. Photini  asked out loud to no one in particular, "I wonder what makes him so eager, so driven? What has he got to tell?''

Do you have the same story to tell? Are the springs of living water flowing?

Cos