Living Water

Alone.
I sit alone, thirsty.
Misunderstood, judged, rejected.
Overcome 
by my own sin,
ashamed.
The darkness in my heart
threatens.
Striving
to lift the bucket
from the depths of the well
for water
that doesn’t quench.
Over and over again,
every single day
I work for and fill myself 
with the water
that doesn’t satisfy.

He asks me for water, 
this stranger. 
Why would He ask me?
I have nothing to offer.
He approaches.
My heart stirs with something new.
Is this hope?
He comes closer,
his hand touches my face,
lifts my head.
I look up for the first time in my life.
His gaze pierces,
and I will never be the same. 

He offers me living water,
and I drink from His cup.
My barren, desolate spirit
revives.
The rocky soil of my soul
becomes fertile
and blooms with new life.
Hope springs forth,
and I fall to my knees.
Joy.
This is what I’ve been waiting for,
desperately searching for
in all of the wrong places. 
Peace.
Tears stream.
He tells me all I ever did,
looks into my eyes,
and loves me still.

What kind of love is this?
I leave my jar behind.
My heart is left no choice,
and succumbs with delight,
to this irresistible
new love, first love.
And I know that
until my last breath
I will tell the world of this Man,
until they know
and believe for themselves
the One who saved me from myself,
the One who can save us all.

Lectio Divina. John 4: 7-42