An old theater saying states, “There are no small parts; only small actors.” This is, I think, designed to bandage the wounded pride of an actor who tried out for the lead role but was cast in a supporting role instead. “Very well,” this adage is supposed to help her say, “then I’m going to be the very best ‘Woman Number 3’ this town has ever seen!”
Now, I’m not sure that little proverb has actually helped anyone feel better, but it does make a point: you don’t have to be the star of the show to know that your part is important and to do the best you can.
When it comes to the Christian life, as we’ve seen, we are not the stars. God is. He’s spinning out this incredible tale, and He’s invited us to be in the show with Him. But, perhaps unlike Woman Number 3, the part He’s asked you to play is deeply significant.
The great thing about coming to understand that God feels you are important is you can stop trying to prove your importance to everyone you meet or who might possibly see you online. Right? Right.
One way God makes your role significant is by using things that happen to you to help in the lives of others.
Whatever it is you go through is not only about you, and what it brings to your life isn’t meant to stop with you. It’s always meant to go through you and into the life of another. Those things include your past, your gifts, your family, your struggles, your health, and anything that happens in church the next time you go.
When the events of our lives—including our bad decisions—are brought to God for His use, amazing things happen.
Take, for example, the biblical story we call “The Woman at the Well.” The story comes from John 4 and starts like this:
Now Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard that he was gaining and baptizing more disciples than John—although in fact it was not Jesus who baptized, but his disciples. So he left Judea and went back once more to Galilee. Now he had to go through Samaria. (John 4:1–4)
Quick geography lesson: the northern part of Israel was called Galilee. This was where Jesus grew up and did most of His ministry. The southern part of Israel was called Judea. That’s where Jerusalem was, and still is, along with Jericho, Bethlehem, and lots of other places you’ve probably heard of.
But in the middle of Israel was this portion of land called Samaria. Samaria used to be part of Israel. In fact, the capital of Israel used to be Samaria before King David made Jerusalem the capital.
Over the centuries, civil war split the kingdom that had been united under David and Solomon and then, at one point, another empire swooped in and conquered Samaria. The conquering kingdom brought in their pagan religion, and many beliefs got mixed together in Samaria. Centuries later, the whole place was conquered by the Roman Empire, who couldn’t really tell the difference between Jews and Samaritans.
However, the Jews and Samaritans definitely could tell the difference, and both groups believed the other group had left the true faith of God and Moses and the Scriptures. Because Israel was larger than Samaria and had more people and more power, their version of events got to sort of win.
But the two groups hated each other. If a Jew needed to travel from Galilee to Judea, he could easily do so in just a couple of days … if he went in a straight line … which meant trekking through Samaria.
Ha! Not going to happen. Jews would rather tack days and miles onto their journey than set foot in that tainted land of blasphemers!
So it must’ve really confused the disciples when Jesus “had” to go through Samaria, as we saw in the Scripture quoted above. No, He doesn’t have to go through Samaria, they probably thought. What we have to do is avoid Samaria altogether.
Does the disciples’ attitude speak to you at all? Do you have people you’d rather avoid than talk to? Would you rather add an hour to your trip than come anywhere close to that person? And then have you ever had someone drag you right past that person’s nose?
Yet John says Jesus had to go through Samaria. Huh. Whenever you read that Jesus, King and Creator of the universe, had to do something, it’s a good idea to take notice. Because Jesus didn’t have to do anything. But apparently He had to go through Samaria. Why?
So 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. When a Samaritan woman came to draw water.… (John 4:5–7)
He was tired. I love that we can relate to Jesus, and He can relate to us. He was tired so He sat down. It was the Jewish sixth hour, which would’ve been noon. While He was sitting there by a water well, a woman from the town came up with a bucket.
This is a clue to our story, but it’s easy to miss. Typically, a Samaritan woman of that time would go to the well first thing in the morning before the blazing heat of the Middle East got going to draw water to provide for her family. But this woman came to the well at noon. Why?
Because she was hiding—a lot like Adam and Eve tried to hide from God. She was going well out of her way to hide from people, while Jesus was going out of the normal Jewish way to meet her. She figured no one else would be there at that time because it was hot and it was noon.
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.)
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 livestock?”
Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them 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.” (John 4:7–15)
I love the sort of playfulness going on here.
“You want water? How about living water?”
“Living water? You don’t even have a bucket for regular water. But sure, I’ll take your magic water, crazy man. It’ll save me a lot of time!”
He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.”
“I have no husband,” she replied.
Jesus said to her, “You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true.”
“Sir,” the woman said, “I can see that you are a prophet.” (John 4:16–19)
Hoo, it’s getting juicy now, isn’t it?
Did He really go there about her sordid past? Oh, yes, He did.
Jesus knows all about you … and He still pursues you, even when you’re not pursuing Him. That’s interesting to me. He knows you completely and still loves you … completely.
I’ll bet this woman was thinking, Uh-oh, this guy’s some kind of mind reader. I’d better change the subject fast! So she pulled out her surefire distraction, the oldest argument between Jews and Samaritans:
“Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem.”
“Woman,” Jesus replied, “believe me, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You Samaritans worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews. Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth.”
The woman said, “I know that Messiah” (called Christ) “is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.”
Then Jesus declared, “I, the one speaking to you—I am he.” (John 4:20–26)
Jesus solves the Jew-Samaritan question and then moves on to more important matters.
I can only assume that this woman, after being called out and her argument heavily debated, is ready for the conversation to end: “Well, that’s your opinion. I guess we won’t really know until the Messiah comes, huh?”
Then, Jesus, with the ultimate mic drop, responds: “I … speaking to you … am He.”
I am He. “You wanted to ask the Messiah? Well, here I am: ask me.”
I love it.
Why did Jesus have to go through Samaria? So He could have this conversation.
Yes, He was on the way to Jerusalem, where major events were going to go down. But He didn’t wait until He reached His destination to start living out His purpose. Jesus lived His purpose on the way to where He was going.
How do you want to have lived your life? When you get to your last day and someone asks you how you lived, what will you say? Will you say, “Oh, now that I’m here at the end, I want to start serving God”? Will you say, “Oh, yeah, every time I arrived at an important destination on the journey, I pulled out the whole living-for-God thing and put on a show?”
No, that’s not how it works. How you will have lived your life, when you get to that last day, is measured by how you lived today. Not at those epic moments only, but in every moment along the way. I’ve heard it said that how you do anything is how you do everything. Therefore, how you live today matters. You want to have lived a life serving God? Then how are you serving Him today? How are you serving Him when no one is watching and no one will notice that thing you did today?
Jesus was on the way to somewhere else, but He stopped and took advantage of the opportunity that walked right up to Him. When it comes to the needs of people, no one is a distraction. Jesus lived His purpose on the way—not as soon as He arrived, met the right people, got the right job, had a kid, or was offered a significant opportunity.
I was once on a flight to go speak at a conference full of pastors. I was very excited about the chance to fly out to this important conference and stand on that important stage and talk to those important people. I have to say, I felt pretty important myself. All I had to do was get there … and polish up my speaking notes on my laptop.
So I found my seat on the plane, took out my earbuds, and put them in, communicating to the person to my left and to my right that I was busy, okay? I fired up my presentation in PowerPoint and typed this question for that important speaking engagement coming in the near future: “Have you missed out on ministering to families in the midst of doing family ministry?”
I was very proud of that one. I was thinking, This is so good. This is really gonna get ’em. Because who of us in ministry hasn’t gotten so focused on the tasks that we overlook the people around us? So I was really going to skewer those pastors—I mean, I was going to challenge them, and all their home churches would benefit as a result. Ahem.
As I was admiring the question I’d typed, the guy next to me leaned over. “Excuse me.”
I thought, Great, I’m sitting by a person who doesn’t get social cues. So I pulled one earbud out and held it barely away from my ear, as if I was going to just pop it right back in. “Yes?”
“Are you, like, a Christian?”
I almost laughed. I was doing really important work, so I had to get rid of him quick—plus maybe communicate one more time that I was not to be bothered. “Sure am. Praise the Lord. God is good. Okay, back to my work.” And I popped that earbud back in.
Hey, I was on my way to minister. I was going to nail those pastors for missing out on ministering to families in the midst of doing family ministry. Ha!
The guy tapped my shoulder. “I have a daughter.”
I mean, seriously, could the guy not take a hint?
“She’s a Christian too.” Apparently, he couldn’t take a hint. “She actually serves in the children’s ministry at her church.”
“Wow. That’s neat.” Please leave me alone.
But he kept talking about his daughter. She’s the best. She’s in the top 3 percent of her high school class. She’s an incredible athlete. Blah, blah, blah.
That was when the bricks fell on my head. I don’t remember what snotty comment I was thinking of saying out loud, but I do remember I read—and finally saw—the question I’d written on the screen.
What a self-consumed punk I’d been. It’s embarrassing to admit.
I shut the computer, took both earbuds completely out, and looked at the man.
I had heard as he shared (but hadn’t wanted to deal with it) that all he did was compliment the things his daughter was good at. I’d worked in youth ministry long enough to know if a dad only complimented his daughter at what she was good at, then that was where she would run for her confidence: being the best.
Which works just great when she is the best, like when she’s a big fish in a little pond. But when she leaves high school for college, maybe she’s not the best anymore. Or maybe she is, but only just barely. What happens to her confidence when swimming among one hundred “big fish” from small ponds, each one just as good as or better than her?
As I listened to this man, I thought, Oh, his daughter! His poor daughter.
That’s when I realized I still wasn’t getting it. First, I’d been stuck on my own future ministry and wasn’t willing to be interrupted by this person droning on. Then I’d been stuck on how I thought this person was unintentionally damaging his daughter. Finally, the Lord convicted me. He said, “Just see him.”
The word encourage means “to give courage.” If you give people courage only to be the best, guess where they will run to for courage? Being the best. We must be careful with our powerful words. A phrase I’ve begun to implement when I encourage a friend is, “Here is how I see Christ in you …” Not only does it give courage to us to look more like Him, but we’ll also inevitably run after Him to find courage in response.
Are you interruptible? I sure wasn’t. I was focused on my destination and wasn’t living out my purpose on the way there.
After ten minutes of me just seeing him and responding to him with compassion, this collected and polished man, who turned out to be a lawyer, was bawling. He poured out his heart to me about his brokenness over his children and his marriage and his fears and his worries about being away so much, and that opened the opportunity for me to speak words of truth to him.
Because I was—finally and almost against my will—interruptible.
Are you interruptible? Do you “have” to go through Samaria? Are you open to the God moments He wants to sit you next to? Or are you going to serve Him only when you get to someplace “important”?
Jesus loved to ask questions. He asked 307 of them, as recorded in the Gospels. He wasn’t so fond of answering them though—not directly anyway. People asked Him 183 questions, but He gave a straight answer only 3 times.
So our Master of Questions fires one off to the Samaritan woman at the well: “Will you give me a drink?” (John 4:7).
What a simple, basic, incredibly loaded question. Will you, a Samaritan woman hiding from the townspeople and jumping from bad relationship to bad relationship, give Me, a male Jewish rabbi, a drink? Will you let Me see your face, or will you hide in shame? Will you set aside your racial hatred, which Samaritans have for Jews, and vice versa usually, and do a kindness for Me after all our centuries of hate? Will you, an unmarried woman, be so brazen as to speak directly to a Jewish man with no witnesses or chaperones around? Will you, who worships wrongly, stoop to serve Me, who you know feels you worship wrongly? Will you, townsperson, do your duty to host a traveler and stranger, though He might disapprove of you?
Yeah, really simple question.
Jesus was interruptible, but this question also asked whether or not the woman was interruptible.
Not long ago—after I should’ve learned my lesson on that plane—I was sitting at my local coffee shop working on some speaking notes on my laptop, earbuds in place. I had been thinking about the Samaritan woman, and I’d just written this statement: “Simple questions oftentimes lead to divine encounters, if we’re looking for them.”
Very impressive, no? I was pleased.
Then a lady walked up. (Of course someone did, right?) “Excuse me, do you know how to use a Macintosh?”
Not a Mac. Not a MacBook or iPad. A Macintosh. Who calls it that, anyway? (You can tell my attitude right away, can’t you?)
I pulled out one earbud, just a half inch, and smarted off. “Yep, sure do.” I popped my earbud back in and leaned over my laptop as if I was doing the most important thing in the history of time.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her go back to her table. Yes!
That was when the Holy Spirit convicted me. Instantly, I felt terrible for how I’d treated her and even for how I’d thought about her.
You guessed it: at that moment, I read what I’d written on the screen. Divine encounters are there if we’re looking for them. Gah!
Why did God always interrupt me to do ministry when I was trying to plan out some ministry?
Oh.
Now, let me pause to point out something. What I felt here was conviction not shame. I was deeply sorry I had done this, but I didn’t feel shameful and worthless. The Holy Spirit convicts; He doesn’t shame. If you are experiencing shame, it’s not from Him. He convicts in order to create awareness in us that leads to love and health and, ultimately, a deeper relationship with Him. The Enemy shames in order to create a sense of unease, inadequacy, and unworthiness at the heart of your being. When we listen to shame, we feel the need to prove our worth. Conviction is liberating not crushing. It is a way to break the chains of lies that have been put on us. In God’s kingdom, failure is an event, never a person.
I took out my earbuds, dropped them like a microphone, and walked to the woman’s table. “Ma’am, I actually do know how to use a Mac … intosh. How can I help you?”
“Oh, great,” she said. “I got this new computer to help me write this paper comparing Islam with Christianity. I’m just trying to find the truth, you see.”
Of course you are! Yikes. So I sat down to help her (with her computer and her questions), and we had an amazing discussion.
But look how close I came to missing this opportunity! So long as I kept my life revolving around me, who knows how many chances like this I’d miss?
On the road from your prayer chair to your “ministry” lies a host of chances for God to interrupt you with glory like this. If you’re interruptible. Divine encounters are all around, if you’re open to them. You could miss them. You will miss God’s plans if your life revolves around your plans. There’s one thing, one Being, our lives should revolve around.
Sometimes these incredible encounters begin with very simple questions.
“Will you give me a drink?”
The Samaritan woman responded to Jesus’s question with a deflection, by raising a debate:
“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 4:9)
Some people turn to debate rather than open themselves up. Have you noticed? “You and I shouldn’t be talking because you look different from me,” the woman at the well said. “We’re from different cultures and faith systems.” She wasn’t willing to be vulnerable with this stranger.
But Jesus not only asked questions; He listened to the answers. Because when you listen, you create an opportunity to love people.
Likewise, when you are willing to speak to others and reveal your secrets and your hurts—to be known—you allow others the opportunity to love you in return. Not in the sense of getting your cup filled by others, but in the sense of being known and loved, which is a taste of how Jesus knows and loves you. As I said earlier, it matters for you to share your life. If people don’t know you, they won’t know how to love you.
Often, I don’t give people the opportunity to love me because I don’t let people know me. The minute I pull back the layers and people understand who I really am, I’m vulnerable. And I don’t like that feeling.
The Samaritan woman didn’t like it either. But Jesus continued the conversation.
“Will you give me a drink?”
“Well, we’re at a well and you have no bucket, so where’s your cup? Where can you get this so-called living water?” she questioned.
“If you knew who it is asking you for a drink, you would’ve asked Him, and I would have given you living water.” Not temporary water. Abundant, living, everlasting water.
“Uh, great. Remind me again: where’s your cup?”
I imagine Him just smiling. “I want to create in you a spring of water welling up to eternal life. Not just for you, but for everyone here. And not just for now, but forever.”
Then she says, “Sure. I’ll take a little bit of what You’re offering.”
Ever done that? Ever just dip your toe in the deeper things of God? Ever just try it out instead of plunging in?
Sometimes, honestly, that’s where I stop at church. Jesus has something for me? Great, let me write it down. Let me sprinkle-sprinkle. Let me take a tiny sip. And then I’m going to go back to just trying harder: “Thank You, Jesus, for just the little bit. But I’m good now.”
I have learned that God doesn’t want to be just part of your life or mine. He wants to be the whole thing. He’s not interested in you sprinkling a little bit of Jesus truth and maybe making your life a little bit better, like a pack of gum you decide to buy as you stand at the cash register. No, no. Because when Jesus says, “Come, follow Me,” He doesn’t say, “Just sprinkle a little bit on and see if you like it.” When He asks you to follow Him, He says, “Carry a cross” (see Luke 14:27). And I can’t picture a comfortable way to carry a cross. Yet sometimes that’s what we want.
So Jesus gets all up in your business, just like He got all up in the woman’s at the well:
He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.”
“I have no husband,” she replied.
Jesus said to her, “You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true.” (John 4:16–18)
This woman had been running to temporarily satisfying wells. She thought each of those men would satisfy her and would keep her life-bucket filled, but apparently none of them did. Maybe when the conversation with Jesus started, she’d half wondered if she could hook up with this Jewish traveler—maybe this one would be the right one who would bring her the lasting satisfaction she’d been holding her cup outward to others to receive.*
Where have you been running? If I really knew you, what would I know? What things have you found that satisfy for a moment but then run dry or turn against you?
If only they wouldn’t satisfy at all, we’d have no confusion! I mean, if our cups never felt full when we, say, won awards and got standing ovations, then we’d never be tempted to constantly chase awards and standing ovations.
Sadly, it’s actually possible to keep enough of these temporary things going that we almost always feel some level of elevated cup-filling, even for a pretty long run. Think of famous athletes with unbroken strings of championships. Think of movie stars who are the current “it” stars. Think of rich people becoming more and more successful and rich. Still, some of them actually feel terrible about themselves.
Of course, some of them may not be nice people. They may have left destroyed families and marriages in their wake. They may be insufferable, self-aggrandizing jerks. Not all of them, for sure, but we’ve all heard of some of them. Yet somehow even they manage to keep at least a low level of juice coming in that carries them until they can score the next big hit.
But if we really knew them—the rich, famous, and beautiful ones I’m talking about—we’d know how miserable some of them are. We’d see them in their suicidal lows. We’d see their system just doesn’t work, not really. And definitely not in the long run.
A cup tilted outward to receive filling from others works only long enough to keep you coming back for more. Plus, it’s not enough and it’s not permanent. It keeps spilling out. Even if it were possible to receive enough at all times to keep it filled, which it isn’t, it would leak away. Only the maker of the cup knows how to use it and keep it filled.
You may know you’re forgiven, but are you walking in freedom? You might know you’re loved, but are you walking confidently and abundantly in it? I bring this up not to shame you but to invite you into something new, something better.
To be honest, I’ve heard the story of the Samaritan woman at the well a lot. For a long time, I just didn’t relate to her. I thought she had deep issues and I didn’t. Know what I mean? In my mind, my sin was really small, and so that’s how little I felt I needed Jesus.
For far too long I thought I couldn’t relate to this woman. Until I sat with the Lord, this passage, and my thoughts about this woman and received a profound thought. I realized that she, like me, deeply longed for love, acceptance, and significance. Have you been there? Moments later I realized these longings are not bad. They’re only problematic when I look for them to be satisfied from anyone other than Jesus. As it turns out, it’s okay to be needy as long as you know where to be filled.
Do you need Him? Really? How much? Just a little? Are you needy right now? Are you thirsty for more of Him? Jesus said those who hunger and thirst are blessed because they will be filled.
When this woman stood before Jesus, He didn’t stop at shallow truths. He dug deep. I like that about Him, because it means I don’t have to hide anymore. When you encounter that kind of grace, you overflow with it.
Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” (John 4:28–29)
We all have water jars. We’ve been calling them cups. As we’ve discovered, when used wrong, they can’t ever get filled. We need to stop trying to get filled with a cup held outward, and all efforts to do so need to be abandoned.
So the woman sets her jar aside and goes into town. That’s big. Because remember, she’s been hiding from these people. She went to a well at noon to avoid them. But now something has changed, and she’s willing to brave the humiliation and the gossip and those sideways looks and talk to them directly. When we really meet Jesus, we’re changed.
She hurries into town and starts the conversation by mentioning the very thing she had been ashamed of: “He told me everything I ever did.” Now that she’s been transformed, she looks a lot like Jesus, who also died to Himself, was buried, and rose to new life, despite His scars. And in a way, now so has she.
Your past will be either Satan’s greatest weapon against you or God’s most powerful tool for His glory. It all depends on how you’re holding your cup. Because anything, and I mean anything, that has happened to you is not meant to stop with you but is always meant to flow out of you and into the lives of others.
The woman at the well was now like Jesus in another way: she started with a question. “Could this be the Messiah? Could this be the Christ? Our theology is different from the Jews’ theology, but all of us are waiting for the Messiah to come and sort everything out and lead us to the truth. Guys, I think I may have found him!”
They came out of the town and made their way toward him.… Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I ever did.” So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers.
They said to the woman, “We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world.” (John 4:30, 39–42)
Remember the girl on the hill who grabbed the other runners, told them they could stop running, and brought them to the God character? That’s what this woman did. Sometimes it’s our job to bring our neighbors to Jesus not to fix our neighbors. In fact, God doesn’t call you to fix them. God calls you to love them and then entrust the fixing to Him. Your part is significant. Your part is bringing them to Jesus—and it often starts when you show them you need Jesus too.
Are you interruptible? Are you looking for the divine encounters all around you? Are you all about His purposes?
In the story of the Samaritan woman, Jesus models for us what it looks like to live out our purpose on the way to where we’re going. He had to go through Samaria. Maybe He knew that woman would be there, and that’s why He went, or maybe this was a random encounter, and because He was looking for a God moment, He found one, and many from that town came to salvation.
Our job is to serve Christ, making much of Him as we go and using whatever is necessary to get people to living water.
People don’t need to be impressed with you. What good news is it for them if they’re impressed with you? And you don’t need to impress them, because no lasting worth can come from that. People don’t need to think you’re awesome; they need to know what they would know if they really knew you. They need to know you’re needy.
That sounds strange, I know. But I relate to needy. I don’t relate to gathered or perfectly put together. I relate to messy. I relate to a woman who has been hiding because of all her sad and pathetic choices that have led to shame and no lasting good.
Messy and needy and broken … it always seems like Jesus is closest to those people. Something about opposing the proud but giving grace to the humble (James 4:6). Maybe today that’s you. And maybe today you will look around and find someone messy, needy, and broken, someone in need of Christ, and you will lay aside your bucket and instead lead him or her to Jesus through intentional questions.
Christ has the power to make dead things alive, even though the wages of our sin is death. He has the power to make us fully alive in Him so we can stop trying to get others to fill our tilted cups and instead hold them upright, that we might overflow Him to a thirsty, broken world.
* Jesus was the seventh guy in her life. The number seven in the Bible is significant because it represents completeness and perfection.