Readings: John 4:5-30,
Romans 5: 1-11
Let us pray:
May your word O God speak to us here today and may we find peace, truth
and challenge as your people, your body.
In Jesus name. Amen.
Imagine:
There is a person, let us say a bloke who lives in a quite nice small
city, not doing too well but mostly managing in between crisis, currently
living with a partner, that’s going ok ish, likes to indulge in his morning
habit of popping down to the cafe for his newspaper and a coffee in the
morning. He feels in control if he can stick to this habit at least. But this morning as he is sitting there, in
comes a bit of a stranger – immigrant probably, and, though he thinks ‘you
can’t be too sure of those folk’ he responds courteously enough to them asking
for some of his paper to read (although they probably won’t really understand
it, he thinks). Then you both start
chatting and you kind of offer some of your story, picking carefully the
details you want to share – but somehow she
know more about you than you are prepared to let on and that sets you back a
bit. And then somehow the tables are turned – instead of being the one who has
something to offer, you are listening avidly, hearing truths and hopes and
possibilities from the lips of this person that you have encountered in this,
the most mundane of places. But
annoyingly it is interrupted, suddenly: her family arrives: suspicious that she is talking to someone
unknown, someone obviously not quite ‘respectable’, worried that she hasn’t yet
been allowed to order her coffee and breakfast.
Not good. You leave – but boy what a story you have to tell and you
do. And that cafe becomes the busiest
place ever as neighbours and friends come to check out and meet with this
stranger that has so transformed you.
The story of the Samaritan woman has always
fascinated me and I couldn’t resist trying to put it into a current context. And to think about how it is that this story
speaks to us here today.
This reading has been described as an
endless source of preaching – a bottomless well so to speak but today I want to
think about just a few words which just leapt out at me – and possibly because
we had so ably been challenged by Tui and John on Wednesday night on the
subject of the water that sustains –
“Whoever drinks of the water of the well
will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water I give them will never
be thirsty”[1]
says Jesus.
We use the word ‘never’ reasonably loosely
these days – ‘I would never do that’ or that fluffiest of phrases ‘never
mind’. But this is a much stronger use
of the word here – never doesn’t just mean today or tomorrow or for as long as
I can be bothered – it means for all time.
Entering into a faith relationship with God through Jesus Christ is an
eternity promise of sustaining life, a promise that will not be withdrawn when
we stumble, nor does it rely on anything we might do or not do!
Paul is seeking to say just this in his
letter to the Romans – that we are justified by faith – this is God’s grace to
us, God’s sustaining love is present in our lives forever. He too wants to get rid of this understanding
that we have to be perfect to earn God’s love, that when we experience
suffering it means that God is absent from or sitting in judgement on us. He wants to remind us that Jesus died not for
the good and the righteous but for the undeserving – that the gift of the
living water of life was given to the world as it is, not as it should be.
We are accepted into relationship with God as we
are through faith. God is present in
all aspect of our lives – not just the good times. I wonder time and time again how we get to
that thinking that only those who are prosperous, healthy and wise know God’s
blessing. It’s just so wrong and so
incredibly manipulative of Christ’s teaching.
But I know that we easily, almost inevitably question the presence, or
rather absence of God when we are at our low points in life. I do. Things are going wrong – what have I
done? This hurts – where are you, why
can’t you, or won’t you, fix it?. Our
challenge from the readings today I would suggest is to understand the depth of
God’s love in every aspect of our lives, but especially in the difficult times,
to know the peace of Christ, that core sense of being loved and valued that can
get you through (not wipe out mind you but get you through) the most difficult
of times, that sustains no matter what is going on.
Paul tells us that this peace, this assurance
of the unfailing water of life is especially known through the life and death
of Jesus, and that it is this love poured into his heart that has sustained him
through the suffering he endured – and that he came out of it stronger in faith
and in praise.
So can we, like the people in the Psalms, worship God
in spirit and in truth no matter what is going on in our lives. The people of Israel had known enormous
suffering: war, invasion, destruction, deportation – and yet with every fibre
of their being they could raise this powerful awe-inspiring song of worship –
O come, let us sing to the Lord;
let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation!
Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving;
let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise!
let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation!
Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving;
let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise!
God was deep and present in their hearts, in their
lives no matter what was going on around them.
So how might that look for us? Lets go back to the story I started with -
the bloke wouldn’t have gone home to find job offers overflowing his letter
box, that his relationships were all sweet and sugar coated, or that his
decisions were always wise and fruitful.
No way. But he would have gone
knowing that he was not alone in dealing with these daily issues and the love
of God was with him always, guiding, nurturing, nourishing him through. That deep heart core was assured of the love
and grace of God. Maybe he might have
found he couldn’t stop smiling or bursting out into fairly untuneful singing or
was suddenly able to sit at peace just listening for the sights and sounds of
God around him in people he’d known all his life. Maybe next time disaster hit he was able to
hold back on the anger, the frustration, the sense of aloneness and even to
find in it a sense of God at work. Maybe
he might even have gone to find others with whom he could talk and share and
question and find comfort. And he might
have found it in his heart to persist even when those people didn’t get where
he was coming from or seemed to shut him out sometimes. Maybe he found he had more gumption than he
thought and could offer some of his learnings into others experiences in a way
that might help.
And maybe he found in those people some who
understood his new found joy in life, who like him wanted to know how to live a
better life, and how the teaching of Jesus helped him do that – people who
didn’t laugh when he sang loudly his songs of praise and who seemed to welcome
him unreservedly when they ate together even though he didn’t quite get the way
things were done.
Maybe he had tasted the water of life and
nothing was ever going to be the same again – for he was never alone, never
ever unloved. And for this we say:
thanks be to God.
Margaret Garland
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