Over the years I’ve been asked to officiate a number of weddings of people whose involvement in church was pretty minimal. For the most part I was open, as I felt like it was a way to connect with folks that were spiritually adrift—to sow seeds into their lives at a time when they may be a little more open than normal. When you’re a pastor, you don’t have a lot of non-Christian coworkers who are far from God—an occupational hazard! So I typically opened myself up to serving in these kinds of settings … provided the couple wasn’t just interested in getting married but was willing to invest in premarital counseling in hopes of staying married.
A number of years ago I did one such wedding. I built a connection with the couple during the premarital counseling sessions, so they asked if I would come to their reception after the ceremony. It was a situation where my wife was out of town, so I ended up going—free food and free cake! What’s not to love? But what I realized, when I got to the reception venue, is that it was being held at the Masonic Lodge. I’d never been inside a Masonic Lodge before and, as a kid who grew up in the Nazarene church with its stand against oath bound secret orders, had never been encouraged to do so. It was one of those situations where, when I parked the car and got out to go inside, I looked around hoping I wouldn’t see anyone I knew happening to drive by who might decide to turn me in to the denominational credential police.
When I went inside, I stood inside the doorway for a moment, looked around, and realized, “I don’t know a soul in this place.” There was not a familiar face in the room—no one with whom I could sit down and feel somewhat relaxed and comfortable. It was a very uneasy feeling! While I took a seat and tried to make small talk—not the easiest of tasks for a guy as introverted as me—two thoughts went through my head: First—I got the sense, in spite of the awkwardness, this is where Jesus would have been and what He’d have been doing. His desire to build relationships with people that were far from God put Him in situations where, from a human standpoint, He was likely ill at ease. But what’s amazing is that those people seemed to be comfortable having Him around—a phenomenon that, given how the church and church people are often viewed by our society, is something of an indictment. Second—the thought hit me, “This is probably what it feels like for people who don’t routinely go to church to drop in on a Sunday morning.” I walked out of that situation with a whole lot more understanding and empathy for the person who walks into a church service unsolicited. They feel walking into a church building like I felt walking into the Masonic Lodge.
With that as a backdrop, I want to consider the story of the woman at the well (John 4) because I’m convinced, in the way Jesus interacts and relates to her, we see a demonstration of how God wants those of us that claim to be His followers to interact and relate to the people around us. There are a few things that jump out at me.
(Jesus) left Judea and went back once more to Galilee. Now he had to go through Samaria. (John 4:3-4, NIV)
To understand a key element of the story you have to understand not only the lay of the land but how things worked in that day. For one thing, the disdain and animosity between the Jews and Samaritans was intense. The most direct path from Judea to Galilee, which was due north, took them through Samaritan territory. But most Jews would intentionally jog east about 20-25 miles and cross the Jordan River in order to avoid going through Samaritan turf. It would be like taking the bypass around a major metropolitan area instead of going straight through town.
But it says here Jesus had to go thru Samaria … not had to in a geographical sense—it was certainly more expedient and direct to go through Samaria—but had to in a much more personal, intimate sense. The word John uses is one he frequently employs periodically when He’s talking about the will of God. Jesus had to go through Samaria in that He felt a clear leading … an inner compulsion … a gut feeling that He should do so.
Look at what it says next:
He came to a town in Samaria called Sychar, near the plot of ground Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon. (John 4:5-6, NIV)
Jesus and his disciples are going through Samaria and come to a well. And Jesus, it says, is tired—a very interesting detail to include. When someone’s a leader, they usually pride themselves on their energy and intensity and drive. But this isn’t a picture of “energetic Jesus”; it’s a picture of “tired Jesus.” God isn’t going to use His strength and stamina in what follows. He’s going to use His weakness and frailty—which, to me, is a great encouragement. Have you ever felt you’re too tired or weak to do something meaningful for God? You’re not! If God can use a weak and tired Jesus in this circumstance, then He can use you in whatever condition you find yourself.
But before we look at what Jesus did, let me share another piece of information. In the ancient world, there were certain settings where somebody, when they’d hear about it, would have a pretty good idea as to what was about to unfold. In our day for instance … if you watch a Western and there’s a guy in a white hat and a guy in a black hat, you pretty much know what’s coming, don’t you? There’s going to be a showdown. In the ancient world, a story that featured a well had that kind of tie-in to it. If it took place at a well, it was pretty much guaranteed to be a boy-meets-girl story. They didn’t have singles bars or dating apps back then, so the well was kind of the meeting place. In the Old Testament, Isaac’s wife Rebekah was identified at a well. Jacob met Rachel at a well. Moses met Zipporah at a well. So—when the audience to whom John was writing realized Jesus was stopping at a well, they had a hunch as to what the ensuing story line would be.
But remember—this isn’t just any boy. This is Jesus—the Son of God … the Messiah … the One sent by God to be redeem and deliver the human race. As it turns out, this wasn’t just any woman either. She was from the wrong tribe and believed all the wrong stuff. And she’s got a sordid past—not exactly the kind of woman you’d pair up with Jesus. But look at what happened:
When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?” (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.) (John 4:7-9, NIV).
A couple of things are happening here that are easy to miss because of unfamiliarity and cultural distance. First—getting water was a very menial task … one often outsourced to servants. For this woman to get water for herself meant she was probably poor. If Jesus is striking up a conversation with her so she can help resource his mission, she’s not a solid prospect. On top of that, in the ancient world, men typically didn’t talk to women in public. And if you were a Jewish rabbi—if your main job was to stay holy and pure—the quickest way to become defiled would be to come in contact with a Samaritan woman. So—the very fact Jesus talked to her was stunning and shocking to her … and most everyone that heard the story. Plus, she came at noon. Fetching water was typically done in the early morning hours or at dusk when the temperatures were cooler. Bottom line: this boy-meets-girl story is wrong on virtually every front imaginable.
And she gets it. When she walks up to the well, she’s thinking, “No way this Jewish rabbi is going to have anything to do with the likes of me” because, in her mind, there was a firm line between us and them. But Jesus crossed the line … because in Jesus’ world there is no “us” and “them.” It’s only “us” and “hopefully someday us.”
Which brings us back to how Jesus interacted with this woman and how it ought to inform the way we relate to the world around us. Here’s the first pointer: This good news God entrusted to His first followers … this message that has made its way down through the annals of history to where one day we got wind of it and it lodged in our hearts—is open to everyone! It’s not that some are disqualified or excluded or don’t make the cut. It’s not that some are ruled out or deemed unfit or barred. No! It’s open to everyone.
Here’s the thing about this woman … and it’s equally true about everyone we’ll ever meet. They have a story. I don’t know what this woman dreamed about when she was a little girl, but I can’t imagine she hoped she’d someday cycle through five marriages. Remember—in the ancient world a woman did not have the right to initiate divorce. We think of this lady as scandalous and disreputable—and she may have been—but there’s also a sense in which she was also a victim. Over and over, she’d had a man make a promise to her, only to come back later and say, “Nope, I don’t want you!” The shame and embarrassment she felt and the dignity and worth with which Jesus treated her. Wow—it is so very instructive!
The disciples, when they returned from their errand, looked at her and saw somebody that was all wrong. Jesus looked at her and saw somebody that God loved. And God challenges those of us bear His name—who claim to be His followers—to respond that same way. I mean—what it would be like if every time anyone ever asked, “What’s your church about? What’s it like?” we could reply, “It’s a place where it doesn’t matter who you are or where you’ve been, because we believe you have value and worth. We believe everyone matters and you are welcome here.”
Most churches have what’s called a Welcome Team—individuals who volunteer to serve as greeters and strive to create a sense of warmth and openness in the heart of each person that sets foot inside the building. But when you and I have Jesus kind of eyes, we’ll consider ourselves part of the Welcome Team whether we have an assigned responsibility or not. We’ll make eye contact with people … strive to see them as God sees them … relate to them with care and warmth. We’ll have Jesus kind of ears—we’ll listen … pay attention to what they have to say … take time to hear their story. We’ll have a Jesus face—we’ll smile and let them know by our countenance we’re glad they’re here. We’ll have a Jesus kind of heart—we’ll honor their dignity and treat them with respect. We’ll have Jesus kind of feet—if somebody looks lost or doesn’t know where to go, we’ll accompany them to where they’re trying to go rather than just point and say, “It’s over there”. And we’ll have Jesus kind of hands—we won’t be tied up on our cell phone, but we’ll be free to hand them a Kleenex or give them a hug. Because we worship a God that loves everybody, we’ll do the little things that will let them know He loves them too.
Some time back I was reading about how, in the outback of Australia, they have huge cattle ranches, so the ranchers have to figure out how to keep the cattle from wandering away. Basically, there are two ways. They can either build a fence around the property line, or they can dig a well. A lot of people are into building fences. A lot of churches could be classified as “fence building churches.” But Jesus wasn’t a fence builder; He was a well digger. And if we’re going to be the kind of church that is seriously trying to impact people far from God, it can’t be about erecting fences to where it’s “us” and “them.” It has to be about digging wells to where it’s “us” and “hopefully someday us.” Because Jesus loves everybody, and we just want people to meet the Jesus we’ve come to know and love.
There are dozens … hundreds … thousands … millions of people who might be one invitation away from taking a step that will one day lead them to Jesus. But no one has engaged them. No one has taken time to hear their story. No one has invited them. In a world that divides the human race up into “us” and “them”—where there’s hostility and bitterness and suspicion and mistrust and hatred between racial groups and political division and brokenness within families—there’s a family called the church where everybody is supposed to be welcome. In our day, that’s the kind of place that has the potential to draw in and persuade people who are broken and hurting. But they’re not just going to come into our church buildings unsolicited. We need to be willing to perhaps be a little bit uncomfortable and engage them where they are.