Bad Girls of the Bible Part 9

"Will you give me a drink?" His voice sounded oddly familiar. Impossible. She'd never laid eyes on him before.

"That's what I'm here for, buddy." She felt the corners of her mouth begin to lift in an unaccustomed grin. "Unless, of course, you don't want your liquor poured by a woman. Some customers are funny like that."

He shook his head, his features softening. "If you knew me, you'd know that's not something I'd ever worry about." His gaze dropped to the nametag on her navy-and-white striped blouse. "I see you don't have a name."

She glanced down and let out a nervous excuse for a laugh. "Guess I lost it somewhere." The plastic tag merely read "The Oasis," with a blank s.p.a.ce below it. "One of those stick-on labels, you know." She shrugged, busying her hands drying gla.s.ses. "Anyway, it doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

Oh brother. She knew where this was leading. "If you...uh, don't mind, I've got other customers, mister. So...um, what'll you have?"

He inclined his head toward the gla.s.s by her elbow. "Whatever you're drinking."

"Oh! Well...that's just bottled water with a twist of lime."

"Perfect. I'll have one too." He smiled. "On the rocks."

Crystal knew her sigh sounded impatient. "Sure you don't want me to add something from the well?" She pointed to the bargain-label whiskeys in the trough beside the sink.

When he shook his head, she reached for a tall gla.s.s and thumped it on the bar. Who had time for games? Not her, not on a night with one of the regular waitresses out sick and another rowdy group stumbling through her door at that very moment. If the stranger wanted water, he got water. Two dollars a gla.s.s, the same thing everybody else paid for well drinks.

He tossed his money on the counter and downed the full gla.s.s, pus.h.i.+ng it toward her again.

She laughed in spite of herself, in spite of the way he studied her so closely. "Liked it, huh?"

His shrug was noncommittal. "I've had better."

"Better water?"

"Real water." His smile transformed his features. Maybe he wasn't so homely after all. "Water that never leaves you wanting more, that quenches your thirst completely. Forever."

"Is that right?" She poured him a second gla.s.s, waving the newcomers toward an empty pair of tables. "Suppose you toss down another one while I get this group set up with drinks." She moved in their direction, then turned to send him a saucy wink. "Don't forget, buddy. Two dollars a holler."

Her four new arrivals had each commandeered a small c.o.c.ktail table and chair, filling up an entire corner with their long, blue-jeaned legs, mud-caked boots, and bright orange coats and vests.

"Been fis.h.i.+n' today, fellas?"

"Got that right, sweetheart!" The obvious leader of the group flashed her a toothy smile. "Didn't catch diddly-squat, so we're here to drown our sorrows in your cheapest beer."

She took their orders, half expecting to find the stranger's barstool vacant by the time she returned. It was vacant, all right. He was behind the bar, helping himself to a fresh gla.s.s.

"Hey!" s.n.a.t.c.hing it out of his hands, she dropped his tumbler in the tepid dishwater, splas.h.i.+ng suds on both of them. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Serving." He straightened and dried his hands on her towel. Her towel! "It's what I do best."

"Fine." She yanked the towel out of his hands. "Be sure and fill out an application. The next time we need a waiter, we'll give you a call."

Before she could drive her point home any further, a couple in their twenties slid onto two nearby barstools and motioned him over. His words rang with sincerity. "May I offer you something to drink?"

She jabbed an elbow in his side and shot him a nasty look, but he merely smiled and turned back to the couple, who ordered gin and tonics with a twist. As smoothly as if he'd been tending bar all his life, he pulled down two clean gla.s.ses, scooped up shaved ice, and sliced two slim wedges of fresh lime.

Crystal peered at him through narrowed eyes. "You've done this before."

"As I said, I was born to serve." Pouring the contents of a sparkling pitcher of water into the gla.s.ses, he slid them in front of the couple, who toasted one another and lifted the drinks to their lips.

What in the...? She grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him to the far end of the bar, making sure her back faced the customers. "What are you doing?" she hissed, heat rising to her cheeks. The nerve! "These people didn't order plain water; they ordered gin and tonic. Are you trying to get me fired?"

"You haven't even tasted it yet."

"The water?" It was almost a shriek. "I know what water tastes like, for G.o.d's sake."

"Exactly." He was utterly calm. His eyes gave away nothing.

"But that's not what they ordered!"

"No. But that's what they need. They're thirsty."

"Look, I..." She raked her hands through her hair. "n.o.body...I mean..." She groaned. "n.o.body comes in here because they're thirsty."

He handed her an icy gla.s.s, as if out of nowhere. "Why don't you sample some while I see if these two need anything else?"

Crystal held it, too stunned to drink, as he chatted with the smiling couple who were standing to leave and stuffing a ten-dollar bill in his hand. "Best drinks we've ever had," she heard the young man say. "What did you call it again?"

Curiosity finally brought the gla.s.s to her lips. She sniffed, keeping an eagle eye on the impromptu bartender, who was pouring another round of ice water for the fis.h.i.+ng party. "Oh no, you don't!" She lunged at him, nearly spilling the liquid all over her blouse. "They're Pabst drinkers, the whole lot of them."

"Let's see if this doesn't do a better job of quenching their thirst."

Clearly there was no stopping him. The man was on a mission and certifiably crazy besides. She watched as the gang in orange and blue tossed down their drinks, laughing and nodding their approval.

What is going on here?

She lifted her gla.s.s again, sniffing it suspiciously. It smelled fresh, like the air up on Mount Hood. Holding it toward the meager glow of a nearby Coors sign, she could see the water was crystal clear. Hardly dangerous. She took a hesitant sip and was amazed at its purity, the sweet clarity of its taste.

"Well?" He was by her side again, smiling broadly.

"Well!" Shaking her head, she exhaled, then downed her gla.s.s in a greedy gulp. "That's really something." She held out the gla.s.s, half expecting it to magically refill itself. "What is it?"

"Life."

"Life?" She wrinkled her brow. "Is that something new from Anheuser-Busch?"

His laugh was genuine. "Not quite, Miss...uh. I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't say." She flipped her hair over her right shoulder, suddenly embarra.s.sed.

"It is 'Miss'; I'm sure of that." He was looking through her again. "Though it would've been 'Mrs.' last month."

It wasn't a question. Her eyes widened. How could he know? Folding her arms, she leaned back slightly, trying to put some distance between them. "I don't have a husband."

He folded his arms as well. "That's true. Not anymore. You've had five, though..."

She gasped.

"...and the man you're living with now-Mick, right?-he isn't your husband either."

"Mister, I...I'm..." Her face was on fire. Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth, refusing to budge. Was he a psychic? Employed by the court system? Or your everyday, garden-variety madman?

"Uh..." Get hold of yourself, Crystal! "It's obvious that you...know some...things about me." Everything, probably.

The warmth in his eyes was unmistakable. "Would you like more water?"

"Yes, I...I think I would." She stuck out her gla.s.s with a trembling hand. Had she ever been this thirsty in her entire life? He wrapped his strong fingers around hers, steadying her hand as he poured while she watched, mesmerized. "So...what did you say your name was?"

"Ahh." The warmth in his voice was unforgettable. "I thought you'd never ask..."

Known by Her Location but Not by Her Name: The Woman at the Well

So he came to a town in Samaria called Sychar... John 4:5 Lord, with all due respect, surely you made a wrong turn somewhere. What was a Jew like you doing in a place like this? True, when someone travels from Judea to Galilee, it's hard to skip Samaria, but most Jews at least tried to avoid a group of colonists they saw as less than honorable members of the house of Israel.

Jews and Samaritans had one thing in common though. On a hot day, they all developed a powerful thirst.

Jacob's well was there... John 4:6 It still is there, as a matter of fact. Visit the Holy Land and see the ancient well of Jacob for yourself, once a welcome source of water in a parched parcel of ground that Jacob bequeathed to his son Joseph.

But it was the women of the land who spent time at the wells. Rebekah was wooed at a well by Eliezer on Isaac's behalf. Rachel was courted by Jacob at a well at Haran. Now we find another well in the wilderness where a woman's arrival was imminent.

Antic.i.p.ation hung over the scene like the desert heat, unseen but palpable. By all that was considered right and holy, Jesus shouldn't have been there. But he was.

...and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about the sixth hour. John 4:6 By Roman time, it was six o'clock in the evening; by Jewish time, twelve noon. Since most women went to the well at eventide and there wasn't a water pot in sight yet, we'll stick with the conventional reading and a.s.sume it was noon, the heat of the day. Jesus had been traveling all morning. Finding a watering hole, he dropped there in an exhausted heap. His spirit was willing to press on, but his flesh was too weak to move another step. Though he's fully G.o.d, Jesus' utterly human nature in this scene always tugs at my heart.

Would someone get this man a drink, please?

When a Samaritan woman came to draw water... John 4:7 There she was, just a-walkin' down the street. She had two strikes against her already: (1) She was a Samaritan, not a Jew, and (2) she was a woman, of all things. John, the only gospel writer to record this story, didn't even include her name.

Non-Jew, non-male, who cares?

Jesus cared.

Jesus said to her, "Will you give me a drink?" John 4:7 He cared so much he spoke to her directly. No doubt he looked her in the eyes when he said it, might even have touched the sleeve of her garment to get her attention.

Oh, it gives me s.h.i.+vers just to think of it! The Lord reaching out to someone who was in all ways a social reject. Notice he didn't command her; he asked her. His words were polite and forthright, the start of a lengthy conversation-the longest found in Scripture between Jesus and anyone, let alone a Samaritan.

Let alone a woman.

Let alone that kind of woman.

Her gender and her nationality are not incidental to the story; they are integral, because they drive home the universal truth of G.o.d's fountain of grace: Its refres.h.i.+ng waters are meant for every human being willing to hold out his empty cup.

What was she doing there in the scorching heat of midday? She must have been mighty thirsty to risk the sting of the sun and the neighborhood gossips. Alas, water's a necessity of life, then and now. Forced by that need, she chose the one time other women from Sychar wouldn't be likely to show up and ventured toward the outskirts of town where a well-and a wise but weary man-waited for her.

The woman wasn't expecting him, but clearly Jesus was expecting her. Otherwise he might have joined his disciples.

(His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.) John 4:8 Instead, he met her one-on-one, the single best way to approach anyone about spiritual matters. Cla.s.sroom teaching has its place, and small-group studies are wonderful, but when Christ speaks to my heart, it's always just the two of us. With you, too?

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 a.s.sociate with Samaritans.) John 4:9 The parenthetical explanation says it all: Jews + Samaritans = No Go. Jesus, however, blew off the Jewish custom of steering clear of Samaritans. He even asked to share her water pot... Germ City, Lord! Clearly he didn't allow anything as trivial as religious tradition to get in the way of her genuine journey toward faith.

(And she thought she was merely walking toward a well.) Jesus answered her, "If you knew the gift of G.o.d and who it is that asks you for a drink..." John 4:10 The subtle s.h.i.+ft from temporal thirst to eternal satisfaction had begun. "If you knew" left the door wide open. He didn't say, "Duh! Don't you know who I am?" He didn't put her on the spot or demand that she identify him...or herself. Ever the gentleman, this Rabbi merely suggested that he had the means to quench her obvious thirst.

"...you would have asked him and he would have given you living water." John 4:10 Water from a well was dead water-rainwater mostly. Far from pure or refres.h.i.+ng, it was more suited to sheep than people. Well water was common, everyday stuff, but living water? What a concept! The Lord's words, full of mystery and intrigue, got her attention.

"Sir," the woman said, "you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water?" John 4:11 The woman was polite but gutsy. Observant, too. Jesus didn't have a bucket, barrel, or bowl, and they both knew it. No Web site either-www.livingwater.org. Still, he seemed confident enough. She pressed her point, tossing in a bit of history, perhaps to impress him.

"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?" John 4:12 It's the standard argument: "Hey, if it was good enough water for Jacob, it should be good enough for the likes of you." One scholar called the woman "skeptical, intelligent, irrepressible."1 In the vernacular, I'd label her a pushy broad.

Maybe that's why I like her so much.

Jesus answered, "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again..." John 4:13 Stated like a promise, one she could hardly refute. She was back for another drink, wasn't she? When you're really thirsty, you can down a huge tumbler of icy water in one gulp and quickly thrust your empty gla.s.s out for more.

Unless Jesus is the one holding the pitcher.

"...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." John 4:14 Many Sunday afternoons in my childhood my parents drove to the outskirts of our small Pennsylvania town, to a gus.h.i.+ng spring that shot straight out of a crudely made pipe lodged in the side of a mountain. It was spring water-cold as snow and fresh as suns.h.i.+ne, full of natural minerals and absolutely free. People brought empty milk jugs, gallon jars, whatever would hold the crystal-clear liquid. My mouth waters at the memory of it!

The water Jesus spoke of was even more delicious. An endless supply of holy, cleansing water awaited the Samaritan woman-a personal fountain of spiritual youth that could well up inside her forever.

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 4:15 It's obvious she'd like nothing better than never to visit that well again. Never risk public ridicule, never admit she had a need so basic as water. Too bad, my dear. We simply can't live without it. The average woman's body is 50 to 60 percent water, which requires constant replenis.h.i.+ng. A few hours without H20 in some form and our mouths turn to cotton, dark circles appear under our eyes, and our lips grow chapped. A few days without water and serious dehydration sets in, producing weakness, lethargy, exhaustion.

A week without water and we're dead.

One look at her and Jesus knew she was parched with thirst in both body and spirit. The first was easily solved with a dip in the well. The other thirst needed to be brought out in the open before it could be sated.

He told her, "Go, call your husband and come back." John 4:16 Jesus wasn't being rude, just bowing to the custom of the day. Women-Good Girls, that is-didn't speak alone with a man in a public place. By asking her to call her husband to join them, the Lord was honoring her, saying in essence, "I know you're not a harlot." By inviting her to come back, he was a.s.suring her of his interest in her welfare, rather than in something more carnal.

No, she wasn't a harlot. Nor was she married, at the moment.

"I have no husband," she replied. John 4:17 We can hear the hesitancy in her voice, sense the blush that might have crept up her neck and across her cheeks. Does he know? Will he a.s.sume the worst about me?

First he affirmed the accuracy of her answer.

Jesus said to her, "You are right when you say you have no husband." John 4:17 For one beat she must have inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

"The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband." John 4:18 Her heart surely sank. He knows!