The Encounter

My journey was never ending, I found myself opening one door after another leading to

unsettling levels of emotion. I was frightened, that once I arrived at the one place, that would

fulfill the vacant parts of me, the truth would be, it wouldn’t. I was empty and abandoned, shell

shocked from past events. I don’t know if it was the heat from the situation or the

thirst that drove me to this conclusion, I was completely stuck, traveling all at the same moment.

I found myself starring, into the face of a man that wasn’t my husband, wasn’t the father of

any of my children. Another dead end, for years I grew to the understanding that a women’s

imprint was found in men. Fascinated by the challenge, I would mold these men into what I felt I

needed in that season of my life. The shame I wore took on an identity of its own, it suited

sin. Making others seeking that same level of completion, envious. I hated who I once was,

and it wasn’t until I came to a point of wreckage that I cried out for God to help me. My eyes

closed with dread, the awkward silence, the stillness became my home. I could hear the rain

the wind and storm, but no one was there, just me all alone. That may have been a fact, but it was

not The Truth. Gods’ presence, unwavering, never-ending love subdued me. God  heard my cries

and collected my tears. Even when I felt alone, God was there. Initially, felt I wasn’t good

enough to be His child, I failed to acknowledge the adoption.

I couldn’t even bring myself to pray for anything that was beyond my children.

Still living off self-sufficiency, my coping mechanism created a

mask of self-centered ways of pride. In dying to myself, I found myself, disconnecting

from one idol after another. All the things that I felt served me I was a slave to. I

wanted to know more even if it was just to save my bloodline. I wanted to give my life to

Christ, first, I must give up everything that I thought completed me. God surrounded me

with angles along the way, angels that hand fed me the word that nourished my spiritual

growth up until this point. It wasn’t what they were feeding me, but the level of care in

feeding me. As a spiritual infant I knew I needed scripture to be broken down piece by piece

until my teeth came in, the chewing, consuming and applicating that was needed daily. I had sat,

and posture myself to eat the word of God, to allow the word to penetrate my heart. Slowing

down just enough to direct my attention toward one way, the only way. There I was,

broken, covered in shame, positioned in margin with God, when I read (John4:10-12)

 The Samaritan woman, taken aback, asked, “How come you, a Jew, are asking me, a

Samaritan woman, for a drink?” (Jews in those days wouldn’t be caught dead talking to

Samaritans.)10 Jesus answered, “If you knew the generosity of God and who I am, you.

would be asking me for a drink, and I would give you fresh, living water.”  In that

moment I found myself in revelation, deep thought of conversation but my mouth,

didn’t move.  I had to keep reading. 13-14 Jesus said, “Everyone who drinks this water will.

get thirsty again and again. Anyone who drinks the water I give will never thirst—not

ever. The water I give will be an artesian spring within, gushing fountains of endless life.”

If what I was reading was true, this is the one thing that I have searched high and low for

to feel whole and complete. But why? Why me I don’t deserve this living water my heart

sank with guilt. For the first time, through intimacy ( into me you see) with father, I began to

believe  16 He said, “Go call your husband and then come back.”17-18 “I have no husband,” she

 spoke. “That’s nicely put: ‘I have no husband.’ You’ve had five husbands, and the man you’re

living with now isn’t even your husband. You spoke the truth there, sure enough.”19-20 “Oh, so

 you’re a prophet! Well, tell me this: Our ancestors worshiped God at this mountain, but you

Jews! insist that Jerusalem is the only place for worship, right?”

I found myself perplexed; this can’t be this accurate. Is this woman my blood? her ways

resembled my ways, her view? reflected my view, and her shame was all too familiar, it was as if

I was reading into a mirror. Suddenly I felt exposed, then the power of who God is and what He

has already done, punctured my heart and tears started to fill my eyes as read into the

following verses.

21-23 “Believe me, woman, the time is coming when you Samaritans will worship

Father neither here at this mountain nor there in Jerusalem. You worship guessing in the

dark; we Jews worship in the clear light of day. God’s way of salvation is made available

through the Jews. But the time is coming—it has, in fact, come—when what you’re

called will not matter and where you go to worship will not matter.

No matter what your called? No matter where you go to worship! God is so good; He

has set me free through His glory, of the women at the well. In accepting Jesus Christ as my

Lord and savior. He washed me clean, the belief that created a bridge to be in relationship with

God. Through koinonia, the intimacy is built, the communication gets clearer, and the clarity of

my identity is crisp. I walk out of the prison that once was my home, I realize, I am free. The

freedom that fuels the gospel that forms His ministry.