Thirsty

Scripture Lessons: Exodus 17: 1-7 and John 4: 5-42 Sermon title: Thirsty Preached on March 12, 2023 My friends, the woman went to the well because she was thirsty, but she didn’t just need a sip of water. Do you know what I mean by that? As she walks into our second Scripture lesson encountering Jesus, all that we need to know about her is encapsulated in one subtle detail. Our second Scripture lesson began: “Jesus came to a Samaritan city, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon.” Therefore, we know that Jesus shows up at the well when the sun is at its highest point. The sun is beating down. It’s hot, and he’s thirsty. Who else was there? No one. Why? Well, think about it. In a world without indoor plumbing, everyone goes to this well early in the morning or after the sun has set. It’s cooler that way. Plus, people need water for baths and breakfast. The best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup. But you can’t have Folgers without water from the well. Everyone in town goes to the well in the morning, yet as Jesus comes to the well at noon, sun beating down; he’s hot, tired, and thirsty. Here comes this woman who is thirsty, too, but, my friends, the woman goes to the well because she’s thirsty, yet she doesn’t just need a sip of water. Do you know what I mean by that? If all she needed from the world was water, there would have been a bucket full in her house already. She would have gone to the well when her community gathered there, in the cool of the morning. It wasn’t the cool of the morning when she walked up and found Jesus there; it was noon. Why was she going to the well at noon? She’s thirsty, yet she doesn’t just need a sip of water. She also wants acceptance from the world, and because she goes to the well at noon, we know she doesn’t have it. Imagine her showing up in the cool of the morning before the sun rose. That’s when everyone in town went to the well. If you go to the town well at noon, it’s because every time you showed up there in the morning, someone said something that hurt too much to hear. I can see her walking up to the well in the cool of the morning and overhearing a conversation between the ladies of the town: “Did you hear that it didn’t work out with her husband?” “No, Gladys, I hadn’t heard that.” “Wasn’t that her fourth one?” “I heard it was her fifth.” “And who is she living with now?” “I don’t know the man’s name, but they’re not even married. Can you believe it?” You must be thirsty to walk into that environment. You’d have to be dying of thirst to go to that well to face such gossip. I’d rather lay on my back with my mouth open and pray for rain than face a crowd like that one. Can you imagine what she was feeling? Do you know what it means to be thirsty for more than a sip of water? If you’ve ever been the new kid at school, then you know what it’s like. Think of going to the well in the morning as walking out into the playground at recess. The new kid at school wants to play basketball with the kids who play basketball. Or maybe she tries to fit in with the group looking for four leaf clovers in the field. Do kids do that anymore? I don’t know what kids do at recess these days, but I do know that every child knows the feeling of trying to break into a group that’s already been formed, and if you’ve tried to break in and have been rejected too many times, you stop trying. To save yourself from the pain of rejection, you go to the well at noon instead of in the morning. You sit with the teachers during recess instead of trying to get the boys to pass you the ball. You feel the sun beating down, so you feel thirsty, but you don’t just need a sip of water. You need something else. How many here know that feeling? At one time or another, we’ve all felt it. I remember being the new kid at Hickory Hills Elementary School. I was 8 years old. My parents sent me down the street to wait for the school bus, number 89-03. Ms. Elrod was our bus driver. Do you know the feeling of walking onto a school bus for the very first time? Who do you know? Where will you sit? Your muscles tense up. Your throat gets dry. Do you know the feeling of being thirsty for more than a sip of water? That’s what this woman was feeling. She had felt that feeling so often that “thirsty” is who this woman was. She had walked to the back of the bus and back to the front without finding a seat to sit in so many times that she told her mom and dad she’d rather walk to school, and along the way, she met five men who made promises to her that they wouldn’t keep. Then one day, she met another man who asked her for a drink. It’s noon. Jesus is at the well. Here comes this woman, thirsty for far more than a sip of water, and what does Jesus do? Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” Did He even say please? If He did, it’s not in there. What’s the magic word, Jesus? Nope, that’s not how it went. Just, “Give me a drink,” He says to the woman. Shouldn’t Jesus be the one to give her something? Shouldn’t He be giving her acceptance? Forgiveness? Love? Respect? Instead, Jesus said to her (The Bible doesn’t even say, “asked her.”) “Give me a drink.” What do you make of that? If this passage of Scripture sounds a little crazy to you, then I’m doing a good job as your preacher this morning because it is a little crazy. The Gospel always should sound a little crazy to us because it’s a message that only the Savior of the World could deliver. His is a word that only He could speak. He is doing something new among us by saying to the victim, “Give me a drink,” for sometimes, when we treat the victim like she’s helpless, we push her deeper into victimization. Sometimes, when we give too much to people, treating them as though they were helpless, we perpetuate a cycle that leaves them in a worse position than they were in before. Sometimes, when we do something for people when they needed to do for themselves, they never discover the strength that is within them. When Jesus says to this woman, thirsty for more than a sip of water, “Give me a drink,” I want you to hear in His voice the words of President John F. Kennedy: “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.” I want you to hear the words of Mr. Fred Rogers, who asked a dying man to pray for him. I want you to hear the reminder that sometimes, those who are looking for the world to give them acceptance need to stop asking the for it. They need to see that they never needed the acceptance of the world in the first place. “Give me a drink,” He said, which is a funny thing to ask of a person who was widely pitied and never needed. “Give me a drink,” is a funny thing to request from a woman whom everyone talked about, but no one wanted to be seen with. “Give me a drink,” is the most countercultural thing the Savior could have said, the most unnatural thing Jesus could have requested, for we know that if He wanted water, He could have spoken the words and the heavens would have poured down rain. We know He could have turned the spring into a fountain of fine wine. We know He could have walked on the water from that well, but instead He said to the woman, whom the community saw as having nothing to give, “Give me a drink,” and suddenly, she was the source of something that the King of Kings needed. I want you to hear something out of my mouth loud and clear. Right here in this passage, Jesus is showing us what we must do to have abundant life. He is teaching us a lesson that the world is not teaching us. By saying to this woman, “Give me a drink,” He is showing us that sometimes, the way to heal the brokenhearted is by seeing what they can give. I heard about it once from a pastor. A pastor went to visit a woman who had lost her beloved husband. She was brokenhearted and had turned inward. She rarely left the house. She was angry at God for taking him. She was angry at the church for not supporting her more. She was angry at her family for not coming around. She was angry at her husband for leaving her all alone. The pastor went in her house, and she led him to the sun porch in the back. She sat him down and went into the kitchen to fetch a cup of tea. While she was in the kitchen, the pastor looked around and noticed that the sun porch was like a jungle of African violets. Do you know African violets? I had one once, and I killed it after a couple weeks. The sun must be right, but if you can get it right, then they grow and reproduce, so if you know what you’re doing, you can wind up with a sun porch full of African violets, and this woman knew what she was doing. The pastor drank the tea, then said to her, “May I have one?” She thought about it, wrote down the care instructions on a scrap piece of paper, then reluctantly gave him one. Strangely enough, it made her feel good to see him smile. A week later, the pastor called this woman to report that the African violet she had given him was still alive. In fact, it was blooming, and there was another woman in the church who had just lost her husband. Would she consider sending this newly widowed church member an African violet to care for? She dropped it at the front door of this newly-widowed woman’s house, with care instructions written on a scrap piece of paper, and it felt so good to her that the next day she read through the obituaries in the local paper and delivered an African violet with care instructions to every widow or widower in their small town. Why did she do it? Every time she gave a violet away, her own grief started to lift, for it is not always by receiving that we are healed. Sometimes, it is by giving a drink to those who thirst that our own thirst is quenched. This woman at the well was thirsty, but she was thirsty for more than a sip of water. How was it that she went from being the woman who went to the well at noon to being the evangelist who, leaving her water jar behind, rushed into a town full of people who had rejected her, proclaiming to the community, “Come and see a man who has told me everything that I have ever done. He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” I’ll tell you how: Jesus showed her how to quench her thirst. He showed her how to never be thirsty again, for it is by giving that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned. It is by dying that we are freed from shame and born to eternal life. Amen.