Metanoid Life

John 4:27-30 + 39-42
Early on in lockdown, I came across one of those pictures with a quote that you sometimes see on Facebook. It was posted in several locations, and on that particular day, it really grabbed my attention. The text read like this: In the rush to return to normal, use this time to consider which parts of normal are worth returning to.
In the rush to return to normal, use this time to consider which parts of normal are worth returning to.
I wonder which things are going to change and which things will go back to being just about the same as they were before. Will our society be fairer than it was? Will the smog descend again over our cities? Where will the goats in Llandudno go when the cars go back? Will the spirit of Captain, now Colonel, Tom survive him? Will we keep our compassion for the lonely? Our gratitude towards the hardworking low-paid keyworkers?
It is often the case after a life changing event that we have to reassess our outlook and our values. So too, it seems for the woman at the well. Reading through the passage earlier, I was struck by this little fragment of a verse: “Then the woman left her water jar…” (v28)
You’ll remember that yesterday we talked about the two parts to repentance: A change of mind and a change of behaviour. There are times that call for a shift in what we value. When that happens, there will be some action to back it up.
In the rush to return to normal, will you take your old water jar, or are you looking for something more, something better?
The woman, having had a fair few of her ideas challenged, seems to have come to a point where the same old mountains were no longer worth trotting around. It was time for a new journey. Her encounter with Jesus completely changes not only her mind but her actions: From dragging the same old water jar down a dusty road to a hidden-away well out of sight, she seems now suddenly to be carried on a bubbling wave of eternal water straight into a career as a village evangelist: “Come and see the man who told me everything I have ever done. Could he be the Messiah?”
As she rushes into town, the Holy Spirit prompts the other people in the village to come and see for themselves, and as they invite Jesus to stay with them, their faith becomes personal. They no longer have a hear-say relationship with Jesus but one in which they KNOW He is the Saviour of the world.
What, if anything, is weighing you down and holding you back in your life and witness? What are you holding on to other than Jesus?
If the time for mountains has passed, is it time, too, to put down your water jar?
Repent, the Bible says, and (then) believe. Something has got to be put down before something else can be taken up. A change of mind, a change of direction – and a real, living encounter with Christ to fill us to the brim with living water.
I would encourage you to ask God what parts of normal are worth returning to. And I would encourage you, too, to ask Him to fill you afresh with His bubbling, powerful Spirit to carry you forward and enable you to do all that He has called you to do.
For all that lockdown has brought out the best in many people, the bad news is that we cannot create heaven on earth by our own efforts and best behaviour. It is safe to say that history shows that we are capable of both good and evil. We cannot heal our own heart disease. The Good News is that through faith in Jesus we can have the Holy Spirit working in us and through us, until God brings heaven to earth. And He will. At that point, our hearts will be fully healed.
“I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.” (Rev 21:2)
Put down your water jar. Jesus says: “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.” (John 4:14)
If for any reason you have drifted from that, here is something that really is worth returning to. And sharing.

I wonder what God points out to you as you read John 4:20-26? What stands out to you?
It is said that faith can move mountains.
In today’s section of the account of Jesus and the woman at the well, she raises the controversial question which for ages had been the cause of much hostility between Samaritans and Jews: Where is the right place to worship? Is it in Jerusalem or on Gerizim, the mountain above the well where they were standing?
Having realised that the person in front of her was a prophet, perhaps he could sort this hornet’s nest out with his bare hands? Perhaps, being a Jew, he could perpetuate her expectation so that she could dismiss him? Perhaps, with just a little bit of luck, she could lure him into a discussion about something else than her own vulnerability?
Jesus doesn’t seem overly fazed by the question about mountains, nor does He seem overly interested in that particular debate. The time for mountains has passed.
“A time is coming and has now come when true worshippers will worship in the Spirit and in truth”.
The time for mountains has passed.
There’s a lot of mountains around, traditions and preferences and so on, but it seems in this passage, faith is moving mountains. True worshippers, Jesus says, will worship in the Spirit – dependent on Him and in tune with Him – and in truth, based on what God has revealed in Scripture – the promises we have been given and the accounts we can read.
Slowly, faith is moving mountains for our Samaritan woman as well. Perhaps the biggest mountain was the mountain of denial and self-deception? There is one thing that seems to slowly dawn, not only on this woman, but on most of us along the way: It is mighty hard to hide anything from God.
Since Genesis 3, we have been ‘hiding among the trees’ (mostly from ourselves, because God knows where we are but we have not dared trust Him anymore) and we have been quite good at deflecting questions (The woman made me do it! The snake made me do it!) and avoiding taking responsibility. It is much easier if the problem is out there than if it is in here, in my own heart. And it is far easier to move a mountain than to fix a human heart once it’s gone bad. And it is far easier when faced with a problem we don’t know what to do about, to pretend there is no problem, or that the problem is something else altogether.
But there is another option, of course. Repentance.
That option involves a change of mind that leads to a change in behaviour. It requires us to come to a point where we think about things differently, where out values and priorities shift. Like the prodigal son who came to his senses and began valuing other things than he had so far done. Like the Samaritan woman who gives up her focus on being right and starts seeking understanding (“…when the Messiah comes, he will explain everything to us”).
And, as the prodigal son, this ‘paradigm shift’, this leap of faith, this change in values, must lead to some form of action that fits those new values. There must be fruit in keeping with repentance as John the Baptist reminds the Pharisees in Matt 3:8.
Repentance isn’t a feeling. (That would be called remorse, probably). Repentance is a change of mind and heart that lead to a change of direction.
I wonder if Jesus has led the Samaritan woman to repentance, complete with a change of direction, and whether faith can indeed move mountains? We may find out tomorrow.

John 4:16-19 – Jesus and the Samaritan Woman continue their conversation.

What sort of life would you have to have led to sit on a hot day by a well in 1st century Samaria doing your best to hide from a stranger the fact that your past had 5 failed marriages in it, and now the man wanting his tea later was not even your husband. What sort of life?

What sort of life would you have had to lead to shun human interaction and drag a heavy water jar half a mile down a dusty road in the merciless heat to avoid gossip? Better to not ask than to be rejected… What sort of life?

We don’t know. We can imagine, and I am sure we do. We can make up stories, and I know I do. We can guess, and I’m sure there are times when we do our bit of guesswork and add two and two. But we don’t know.

What is remarkable about this story is that Jesus knows. He knows the woman’s past, and with a prophetic ‘word of knowledge’ He reveals to her that he knows her intimately, the secrets and the shame and the baggage of her life.

He knows whatever it is we don’t know about each other.

The other thing that is remarkable is that Jesus doesn’t reject her or makes her feel uncomfortable. He just tells the truth. The truth that sets her free, because there is nothing to hide now, it is already known by the only one perfect enough to actually pronounce any judgement – and we see that He doesn’t. Because He has not come into the world to condemn, but to save as we discovered.

Guilt, they say, comes from the things you do wrong. Shame comes from the wrong that is done to you.

On the cross, Jesus took away both. On the cross, Jesus carried, like the scapegoat on Atonement Day, all our sins away, never to be seen again. He also carried away the sins of other people. He took all that we have done wrong AND He took all that has been done wrong against us.

When the Lord’s Prayer says: …forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, perhaps that is what God means? That instead of labouring and striving to forgive when we cannot, what we need to do is to put other people’s sin where we put ours – on the scapegoat, and see it carried away.

Lately, I have found that picture helpful alongside our more familiar phrase: Take it to the cross.

The idea of seeing what has hurt me and left me sometimes reeling, wander off into the sunset carried on a goat helps me to let go. Forgive us… as we forgive. The same method – Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. On a cross.

But for now, He is sat at a well in Samaria, and a woman has discovered that not only is He a mighty Jewish man, far greater than Jacob, He is also clearly a prophet, and the best is yet to come. Soon.

Take a moment to read John 4:10-15 and pray that God will speak to you through this passage today.

I woke up this morning to a sound I knew I ought to recognise, but it kept evading me what it was. It sounded like a series of taps with a very small hammer. Like a bird pecking – not quite a woodpecker, but a tiny bit like a nuthatch maybe. It took me a while to wake up enough to realise what it was: Rain! For the first time in what felt like weeks, it was raining heavily and the drops bounced off my window and the plastic roof over some of my patio. Ah! I love rain. Ever since I was a toddler, I have loved rain and pictures exist (which shall remain forever hidden) of a little girl in welly boots sitting with an upturned washing-up bowl in a thunderstorm listening to the drum of the raindrops. You will realise that this was in the days before Peppa Pig and Facebook. Back when boredom was good for you.

I’ve always loved rain, especially after a dry period. I love how it clears the air. I love the smell of rain hitting dry ground. It even has a name: Petrichor, and that is one of my favourite words.

You will remember we left the woman at the 41-metre deep Jacob’s well talking to Jesus. She was slowly getting a clearer picture of who Jesus was, and today, her understanding grows a little bit more as Jesus begins talking to her about living water.

It can be hard to imagine if you have never experienced it, how it is to live in a very hot and very dry country where there are dry seasons and rainy seasons. During dry seasons, the people of the Bible would access water in kept in cisterns, stored up, and eventually going a bit stale as the weeks and months went by with no fresh supply. In rainy seasons, brooks would appear out of nowhere, rain would turn bare hills green, flowers would burst out into song and the air would feel like a spring clean for your lungs, not a duvet of dust over your head. Living water, you see, is water that flows, that moves, that is alive, as opposed to stagnant water saved up for a not so rainy season.

And God has often reminded Israel that He is that living water, always present, always flowing, always adding new life and hope, ‘the fountain of living water’ (Jer 2:13). But His people, God says has often chosen to ‘dig cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that cannot hold water’ (Jer 2:13). Not only are they sticking to their old water, the very cisterns they try to keep it in are leaking hopelessly.

It is into this context Jesus speaks about the gift of God and the living water but the woman is looking down into the deep well of ordinary water, probably at least partly stagnant, wondering how this Jewish man was going to get any water, living or otherwise, out of a nearly bottomless well without as much as a thimble…

And so, she asks the question “Are you greater than our father Jacob who built the well?”, as she begins, reluctantly, to slowly realise that this may well be the case. This is a Jewish man who is greater than even Jacob.

And this great man promises living water which will be like an ever-flowing source of eternal life within whoever drinks it. Living water which does away with thirst once and for all. No wonder the woman wants some of that water. It would save her having to go to the well every day.

I like living water. I like rain and rivers and taps that turn on when you want them to, but more than anything, I like the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Jesus Himself, living inside me, always ready to revive, refresh and bubble up like a chuckling stream when I get a bit weary.

These past few days, I have found it a little extra challenging to have no physical contact with other people. No hugs, no shared meals, no hand on my shoulder etc. But then I read something somewhere and it said this: Because Jesus lives in us by His Spirit, He can hug us from the inside.

Because Jesus lives in us, He can hug us from the inside. Those words became strangely precious to me.

God loves us all the time, but we are leaky vessels. We need reminders. We need a fresh encounter with God’s love often. We need access to a spring that keeps springing.

Do you know what would make you bloom? What would put your heart in the mood for dancing? What melody would you like to hear drummed by the raindrops on an upturned bucket? Whatever it is, I would encourage you to share your longing with Jesus and to let Him share His longing with you. He longs for you to have life, and have it to the full and there is living water on offer. I am going to go away and pray that God will surprise you even right now with a refreshing shower of living water, and that you may know that bubbling stream inside that will be an eternal source of life for us who put our trust in Jesus and have been given the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is a foretaste and a beginning of what life in all its fulness will one day truly be, when our gradual understanding gives way for us to know Him fully, even as we are fully known.

The reading for today is a single verse from John 4:9
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.)
Do you remember the story we started on Saturday? A woman was going to a well and noticed a person in the distance. When she came closer, she noticed it was a man, and he asked her for a drink of water. She was surprised because he was a man and in that culture, not meant to talk to a woman, but as he looked really tired and thirsty, she was about to say yes…
*
“But”, she exclaimed, “you are a Jew! Jews would rather die of thirst than to even use a cup that a Samaritan has touched! How can you ask meof all people for water?? I am both a woman and a Samaritan.”
The stranger just continued to smile.
*
From seeing a shimmering, flickering image of a person in the distance, to making out that he is a man, to discovering that he is a Jew, too, this ‘bad Samaritan’ is slowly discovering who it is she is faced with. Perhaps tomorrow will show us a bit more about her journey?
But I wanted to just highlight one thing today and it is about salvation. Sometimes we think about salvation either as a “sinner’s prayer” or “commitment” once and for all – or we tend to think of it perhaps as a future event, something that will happen once God makes all things new. But the Greek word sozo, which means “salvation” also means “healing”, “deliverance from enemy”, “restoration” and so on.
There is an element of salvation when justice is done. A bit of salvation happens when the blind see. God’s kingdom comes when the oppressed are set free, when lies are exposed, when social balance is improved, when demons and shame flee, when peace is restored.
And one part of this is giving people back their agency and self-respect. I think this is what Jesus is doing when He asks for that drink of water. He puts the woman in a position where she has something to give, Jesus is human and tired with real needs, with a real body that needs water, and a real soul that needs other people, and he makes himself vulnerable to rejection when He asks for something from her. She could have very easily said no. Jesus gives this woman a choice, and in that little choice is a seed for empowerment.
I used to have a friend who was homeless. He would spend most of his time in a doorway and people would generally be very friendly to him, not least because he was genuinely pleasant. I had met him when I started ministering. Most people would say hello across the street. Some people would give him food. A few of them would stop and chat. But one day as I was chatting, God prompted me to sit down with him. It was a bit of a mess – sleeping bag, a tin for coins, some cigarette ends and a bit of pigeon poo. I felt a tiny bit uncomfortable – would I be taken for a homeless person too? But over the next few months, God showed me something I would not have thought of myself: He taught me how to receive from people who have very little, and how in doing that, sometimes a tiny bit of God’s kingdom would come to a situation. I’ll give you two examples: Sometimes, on an evening, I would sit next to my friend and just chat. He would be eating chips that had been given to him. And I would ask if I could have a few, just because I fancied them. Another time, I was due to do communion for the first time, and I told him I was a bit nervous, having never handled the bread and wine before and not sure I would get the order right. This man, who said he didn’t have much faith if any, jumped to his feet, slapped his hand on my shoulder and prayed for me with some gusto: “Jesus, I just pray that you will BLESS Misha and make it go really well!!” Then he sat down as quickly as he had got up, and I was indeed both blessed and astonished. My awareness of the value of agency in situations like this one is based on the passage we are reading together at the moment.
If Jesus didn’t come to that situation with all the solutions ready-made, but humbled himself and asked for a glass of water from someone who probably felt that Jews were know-it-alls and holier-than-thou, then I too should probably accept my humanity and give options for salvation to come to other people through my willingness to accept grace from them.

John chapter 4, verses 1-8 – Jesus meets a Samaritan Woman at a Well

This is a story which is going to unfold over the next few days, and it begins like this…

There is someone there! She can’t quite make out the figure under the tree, but someone is certainly there. The midday heat shimmers and makes it even harder to determine who this person is, but she slows down… This well is half a mile outside town. There is one closer, but she never goes there anymore. Not since…

She pushes the unpleasant thought away and steels herself for the encounter with whomever it might be. She just needs to get enough water for the rest of the day. What is anyone in their right mind doing outside in the midday heat anyway? She was convinced she wouldn’t meet anyone.

As she gets closer, it is clear that it’s a man. He seems tired, almost slouching in the dappled shade of the tree. His face is turned towards her, however. It is as if he’s been expecting her. Her eyes narrow. What does he want?

“Will you give me a drink of water?” The question seems simple, but she knows it’s a question that should never have been asked in the first place. Not by a man, however exhausted and parched he does look. Not by a man all on his own of a woman, all on her own, with no one to ensure her honour, his chivalry, their social distancing. This is a simple question which simply cannot be asked here at this moment by him of her. It’s not the done thing.

But as she looks around, knowing that there are no other people around, still searching the naked landscape for his companions, if indeed he has any, he is smiling a tired request. He may be a man, but he is still human, and it is obvious to her that he is thirsty.

She thinks for a moment.

(To be continued)

Read John 3:23-36 – John Testifies Again About Jesus

Last week, we heard about John’s confession: I am not the Messiah. Today again, we are reminded of these words as John’s disciples come to him, confused that Jesus’ disciples are now also baptising, especially since Jesus and his disciples don’t seem to be following the minute details of ritual washing the way they expected of a religious teacher.

But John doesn’t go along with his disciples’ feelings that John has been given a rough deal or that Jesus is somehow falling short of expectation.

Instead, He tells them that his job is like that of the best man who rejoices when he hears the bridegroom coming. John has been listening and watching and hoping for the Messiah and now He is here.

All through the Old Testament, the idea of God as the husband and Israel as His bride is an image full of depth and rich associations for the Jewish listeners with its messages about tenderness, God’s faithful covenant and ours, sometimes less so, but God promising to redeem us and do away with the shame of our youth. I think for us as well, this is precious imagery and promises.

Now it is amazing the things you can learn on the internet, and some of them may even be true, but I am led to believe that in the Jewish culture, the best man, the friend of the bridegroom, was responsible for arranging the wedding, bringing the couple together, sorting out the practicalities and then, amazingly, for guarding the bride, making sure no false lovers came into the bride chamber.

What a beautiful image of what John’s role is, keeping watch until the Son of God, the rightful bridegroom comes and then to bring the two together.

Close your eyes for just a moment and think about what your ideal spouse would be like. What is important? What would ‘perfect’ look like to you? Have you got your picture in mind, character, temperament and manners? Got it?

How does Jesus measure up to your image of the perfect husband or wife? How does your image measure up to Jesus?

John recognised Jesus and was full of joy, as the shoshben, the best man, who hears the bridegroom’s voice and steps aside from the door he is guarding to let the bridegroom pass him. He knows the voice of the bridegroom. I pray that you may know it too.

Reading: John chapter 3, verse 22: After this, Jesus and His disciples went out into the Judaean countryside, where He spent some time with them, and baptised.
A few days ago, I was on the phone with someone while they were on a walk in the countryside. As they were walking, they told me about the things they passed: “There are lambs in this field”, I was told. “Oh, there is a dog! We know each other.” A few times, I was told about obstacles, mostly styles, but also boggy parts… Occasionally, I could hear the bleating and the birdsong for myself in amongst the everyday conversation we also had about all the things that turn into our lives, but mostly, I learned about the terrain from what she told me, and from the answer to a few questions I asked.
Jesus had taken His disciples out into the countryside too, after a hectic time at the festival in Jerusalem. We read that ‘He spent some time with them’. Perhaps they walked together, perhaps they roasted fish over a campfire, perhaps they all had a chance to ask questions – perhaps they had a favourite song they liked to sing. Jesus took the time it takes to build friendships. He shared life with a small group of people, and they grew closer, just by ‘spending some time together’ in a small community of people all being discipled intensively.
It seems that at least part of the time in the countryside was spent baptising people, too. Have you ever baptised anyone? I don’t know how long I could keep that up for but let’s imagine a few hours a day was spent in the river, leading other people to a point of professing faith. Whatever measure of faith and understanding the disciples had acquired, they were now sharing with others.
There seems to be both a deep form of discipleship and a broader form of discipleship at play in this little verse – the inner circle around Jesus where He poured as much into the disciples as they could sensibly deal with, and the wider group of people coming to be baptised, but perhaps still having a long way to go before they would go from a formal decision to follow to a deep understanding of what that meant in practical terms. And that’s okay.
The disciples were being discipled by Jesus, and they themselves were discipling others.
I wonder whether you know who is discipling you at this season in your life? Who models in effective ways what being a follower of Christ looks like? Who is allowed to speak the truth in love to you? And do you know who you are discipling? Are there people with whom you are intentional? People who might see you as an older sister or brother, or a bit of a guide for this leg of the journey? I would encourage you to take a look around you and ponder who those people are, or who they could be if you allowed it.
And perhaps there is a handful or two whom you are really close with and some relationships that are more casual and less frequent. That, too, is okay. It seems to be what Jesus and the disciples did too – going deep with some, and wide with others.
I told you about my phone conversation earlier on and I want to end on that same note.
Your story is powerful. There is no tool or trick out there that can compete with the power your own personal journey. No one can say your journey isn’t real – it is your journey, your story, your experience of walking with Jesus. I would encourage you to share it like my friend shared her walk me. Tell your story with all its obstacles and delights and be real. Help people see what they cannot see just yet. Perhaps they will catch a bit of the birdsong. Perhaps, they will want to come for a walk with you and you can show them around. Perhaps they will show you things you never noticed.
Or perhaps, like my friend and I, it will all end with a conversation about cake. But then, eating together is a great way to make friends.
I’d really encourage you to tell your story. Someone needs to hear it.