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9The 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. Jesus answered her, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water." "Sir," the woman said, "you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did also his sons and his flocks and herds?" Jesus answered, "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." The woman said to him, "Sir, give me this water so that I won't get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water."

I am sitting by a window overlooking the Chesapeake Bay, at sunrise. The spotlight from the dock is reflected on the water – an artificial moon – and lights from faraway shores shimmer along the horizon. The water never stops its movement. It is moving, living, ever-changing.

Christ tells the Samaritan woman that He will offer her living water if she but asks him for it. While you think of this Living Water as something you drink (since they are by a well), the original Greek refers to the water as rain, as in a shower. Rain… the warmth of a summer rain where you run out into it and dance, lifting your face to heaven, feeling joyful and playful and free. Rain… the thunderstorms that bring the torrential, pelting rains. Rain… which can wash away the grit of life and leave a morning feeling fresh and clean, fragrant and vibrant.

Jesus is all those and more. He refreshes me and makes me dance, face uplifted to Him. He rains His love down on me, but sometimes that means pelting rain, stinging me as it washes away my sins after I’ve wandered down some pathway outside His will and come back to Him covered in the mud. Sometimes it creates a flood in my life of Himself where I can drown my sorrows and pain, or where He carries me along as if I'm floating when I can no longer walk myself. Sometimes it is a mist that almost escapes attention, but is there, constantly offering moisture and nourishment. The rain is ever-present, no matter the form of deliverance.

So this morning, as the layers of blues, lavenders and roses begin to emerge in the breaking sky, I raise my heart and face towards Heaven, praying for Christ to rain/reign on and in me this day. Be it a mist or a deluge, precious Savior, douse me, and saturate me to the core with Yourself.

"Today's Little Lift" from Jim Bullington

Mercy and not Sacrifice (Sept. 29, 2010)