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Dear Friends:

Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water” (Jn 4:10).

This is a great and beautiful statement about prayer from the One in whom every one of God’s promises is a “yes” (2 Cor 1:20).

Jesus answered her, a Samaritan woman, who never thought a Jewish male would speak to her, let alone the Son of God.

In suspicion and self-protection she has asked, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (Jn 4:9).

She doesn’t know who he is, that’s an unfolding mystery, but he has, in one sentence, breached her defenses with the first wave of grace. She has come to a spring for a pitcher of water. He is about to immerse her in the ocean of God’s love.

Deep calls to deep at the thunder of your cataracts;
all your waves and your billows have gone over me.
By day the Lord commands his steadfast love,
at night his song is with me,
a prayer to the God of my life.
(Ps 42:7-8)

“If you knew. . . .”

These are a lover’s words of aching longing. “If you knew . . . .”

“If you knew how much I love you. . . .”

“If you only knew how much I care about you. . . .”

“If you knew that I think about you all the time. . . .”

“If you only knew that I am crazy about you. . . .”

“If you knew the gift of God. . . .” Before, anything else there is grace. That’s what the gift of God is called, “grace.” The good news is the bad news was wrong. There is nothing you can do to earn his love and nothing that you can do to lose it.

Paul wrote a beautiful description of the gift in all its power and blessing for our lives. “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, just as he chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of the glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved” (Eph 1:2-6).

Before the woman was a wife rejected or widowed; before she was shunned from the morning company of women so that she bore the lonely shame of noonday to come to slake her thirst; before she knew that there was such a thing as a Samaritan and that she was one and was hated for it; long before all of that, she was chosen in love and destined in love to be adopted as a precious daughter of her heavenly Father. “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you. . .to be holy and blameless before me,” your Father, a parent as no other, who delights in you as his daughter (Jer 1:5 and Eph 1:4).

He has never stopped loving her and will never stop loving her, specifically her. He spoke of this in an ancient prophesy.

I have loved you with an everlasting love
therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.
Again I will build you, and you shall be built;
O virgin Israel!
Again you shall take your tambourines;
and go forth in the dance of merrymakers.
Again you shall plant vineyards
on the mountains of Samaria;
the planters shall plant,
and shall enjoy the fruit.
For there shall be a day when sentinels will call
in the hill country of Ephraim:
“Come, let us go up to Zion,
to the Lord our God.”
(Isa 31:3-6)

Jesus is inviting her to this possibility, awakening her to this hope. “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is asking, “Give me a drink,” you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.”

He does not separate the gift from the Giver. Jesus redirects her focus from the labels of “Jew,” and “Samaritan woman” to think about who he is and what he might mean to her. God always precedes his gifts.

Grace is not random. It is rooted in relationship. The assurance of living water comes from tapping the source. We easily forget this like rude children on Christmas day, ripping the paper and ribbon off and running outside to play with our toy without thanking the parents who sacrificed with joy to make us happy.

“Living water” is flowing water with a permanent source as in a spring or a river. It is water that carries the power of change and supply. It can sculpt its own course while renewing a land and a people and no human power can restrain it forever.

Living water brings the promise of forgiveness of all the wrong and losing choices, a washing away of impurities, and a healing of the unsightly scars and blemishes of shame. The guilty and grim will know what it means to enjoy life again when they are refreshed by this living water.

He speaks to her in the past tense as if the opportunity has already passed her by–”You would have asked. . . and he would have given. . . .” It seems somewhat mean. “You missed out because you didn’t know to ask.”

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride” the old saying goes about opportunities just out of grasp and love unrequited. A lot of us think about Christ like this. Our hearts carry a dull ache like they do when we pass warmly lit houses in the cold of twilight, but we know that we don’t belong there and must keep moving on. Our hollow soul echoes a plaintive “Why?”

“Why don’t I sense the presence of the Lord like she does?”

“Why doesn’t God ever speak to me like he does to him?”

“Why doesn’t God ever do with me like he does with her?”

“Why can’t I be sure of God’s love like he is?

“Why can’t I see God’s purpose for my life like she can for her’s?”

“Why do my prayers always seem to ricochet off of the ceiling?”

“Why can’t I ever shake this vague feeling of dread that something bad is going to happen?”

“Why do I always miss out on the good things that happen to him?”

Jesus does not taunt you with, “You’re too late,” or condemn you with “You’re not good enough,” or dismiss you with, “I told you so.” “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him” (Jn 3:17).  He is no “kill-joy,” or thief of your hopes and destroyer of your happiness. He says, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (Jn 10:10).

His use of the past-tense is salt to whet her spiritual thirst. He senses her longing, in her lone noonday errand, and bold reaction to his request for a drink. He wants her to know that there is something more for her, something good, something true and lasting and he wants her to want it.

All of the “why” questions above focused on someone else or on the questioner as the important points of reference. That is looking for love in the wrong places. He cries out, “Anyone who is thirsty may come to me! Anyone who believes in me may come and drink! For the Scriptures declare, ‘Rivers of living water will flow from his heart’” (Jn 7:37-38).

Every one of God’s promises finds its “Yes” in Jesus (2 Cor 1:20). Wherever you’ve been looking to satisfy your thirst, take another scan with the eyes of your heart . He’s the place to look and the One to see. Bring your thirst and come to Jesus for the long drink that will satisfy.

“O taste and see that the Lord is Good. Happy are those who take refuge in him” (Ps 34:8).

Under the mercy of Christ,

Kent

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Kent Hansen is a Christian attorney, author and speaker. He practices corporate law and is the managing attorney of the firm of Clayson, Mann, Yaeger & Hansen in Corona, California. Kent also serves as the general counsel of Loma Linda University and Medical Center in Loma Linda, California.

Finding God’s grace revealed in the ordinary experiences of life, spiritual renewal in Christ and prayer are Kent’s passions. He has written two books, Grace at 30,000 Feet and Other Unexpected Places published by Review & Herald in 2002 and Cleansing Fire, Healing Streams: Experiencing God’s Love Through Prayer, published by Pacific Press in spring 2007. Many of his stories and essays about God’s encompassing love have been published in magazines and journals. Kent is often found on the hiking trails of the southern California mountains, following major league baseball, playing the piano or writing his weekly email devotional, “A Word of Grace for Your Monday” that is read by men and women from Alaska to Zimbabwe.

Kent and his beloved Patricia are enjoying their 31st year of marriage. They are the proud parents of Andrew, a college student.

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Here are a few pictures of C.S. Lewis’s house as it looked this winter.

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Laurence Harwood (top), Kim Gilnett (bottom) at Bee Cottage

This picture was mailed to us by Kate Simcoe, our Kilns Coordinator.  Kim Gilnett (of Seattle Pacific University) is sitting in the foreground, with Laurence Harwood in the back, in front of the Bee Cottage.

Laurence Harwood, C.S. Lewis’s godson, was a lecturer at last year’s Summer Seminar on C.S. Lewis Remembered.  His father, Cecil Harwood, was a close personal friend of Lewis as well as fellow Inkling Owen Barfield.  Harwood and Barfield had often rented a small cottage-Bee Cottage-in Beckley, a few miles from Lewis’s home in the Kilns, and Lewis often visited the place (perhaps while on walking tours though the countryside just like his character Elwin Ransom).  Unfortunately its precise location was lost and remained unknown.

However, after Laurence’s lectures in memory of C.S. Lewis, Kate, Kim, and Laurence decided that searching for the cottage would be a great idea, and a great way to remember Lewis.  After a while, they managed to locate the small house, and found that it looked just as anyone would have expected-the waning summer sun sinking behind it, and the bees buzzing about the lavender plants alongside the stairs.

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Dear Friends:

The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.)” (Jn 4:9).

The problem is presented. This is not a story about the quaint founding of a tourist site in the Holy Land. It isn’t reserved for seminar discussions in cross-cultural theology. It is a real story about human needs and the murky doubts that plague our humanity. It is a story of the healing that happens when grace in the person of Jesus Christ confronts the broken-hearted ache of a soul lost in sin. We cannot jump right to the healing. First, we must face the disease and it isn’t pretty.

Graphic labels of race and history, religion and gender have been inscribed in flesh and blood long ago. He is a Jew. She is a Samaritan and a woman. Fear and prejudice mix to glue the labels tight.

“(Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.)” The parentheses in the text give a picture of John putting his hand over his mouth and turning his head to the side for the knowing whisper about bigotry.

Children share their toys and sweets until they attain the shrewdness of experience to understand the harsh concept of loss. This shrewdness is not to be confused with maturity. True maturity is something different. The mature have attained a deeper faith that believes and commits to a truth beyond experience and behave accordingly.

The shrewdness born of loss is about preservation of self in the fear that there will never be more than what one possesses. Against the relentless attrition of sin, the common good is abandoned in a hoarding grasp for competitive survival. The effort to survive grows ever more desperate until one is no longer content to compete, but must start to eliminate competitors in hatred. Hatred means the hater wishes the hated never existed.

The powerful, whose power often is found only in majority status, apply labels to those who are different and weaker to justify their hatred and contempt. Those who are unfortunate in their differences and weakness don’t look like we do, believe like we do, talk like we do, or value what we value. Therefore, we are superior and they are inferior and we are justified in what we do to them to protect ourselves from them.

This power reaches its evil strength, when its victim believes it is worthy only to enter by the back door, drink at a different fountain, sit at the back of the bus, suffer abuse and violence in silence, and keep eyes lowered and thoughts in check, while asking a question like, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”

There is crushing hopelessness in her question to Jesus. It is the oppressive dread of a child who knows no reality beyond the uncertainty and squalor of a refugee camp. It is the despair of a spouse who accepts that the best day is one when she is ignored. It is the drab weariness of a soul reduced to acrid dust by grinding poverty, whether material or spiritual. It is the darkness of a spirit that concludes that God is confined to graceless set-pieces of place, time and rule and there is no gate in the fence through which the distance can be spanned and liberty gained for intimacy and growth. It is the question of a heart that does not know that it is loved.

She asks out of an honest understanding of the facts of her life which, even if hopeless, is where all true prayer must begin–”In the path where I walk, they have hidden a trap for me. Look on my right hand and see–there is no one who takes notice of me; no one cares for me” (Ps 142:3b-4).

As much as we try to dress reality with politically correct platitudes and wishful thinking, there are wells whose waters will always be denied to us by those who apply labels to us and refuse to read anything else about us. There are those of us who, left to our own devices, will never share our blessings in common with others because to do so would admit that we are common and not exceptional. We will not admit that in proud rebellion against the Creator who made us all.

Jesus is there, waiting right at the point, where we make our choices badly and resign ourselves to our fate pathetically. He asks us about the unthinkable, the impossible and irredeemable. Here is the point that we must not miss. If he asks and reaction, however, bitter rises in us, there is the possibility of life and an opportunity for grace that has no relevance to our worthiness or dependence on our strength.

Here is the next question that confronts us if we dare go on with him–Is Christ’s grace sufficient for us? If so we can be “content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, I am strong,” in him (2 Cor 12:10).

The Samaritan woman doesn’t know what she is capable of accepting as she approaches Jesus at the well. She is only reading the labels and going by what they are telling her–”Jews and Samaritans do not share things in common.” The path of redeeming grace has to start somewhere. Why not in a challenge to our strongest prejudices and assumptions?

Jesus did not come to confirm us or affirm us in our rightness. None of us can make that claim regardless of our DNA and history (Rom 3:1-18).  He came to give us his glory, Christ in us, as the Father is in Christ, in a continuous, indiscriminate flow of grace so that we may become completely one to prove that the Father’s love for the Son and all of us together knows no limits (Jn 17: 22-23).

What this means for us is an end to the arbitrary lines of selfishness that divide Jew and Samaritan, male and female, slave and free for all of us are one in Christ Jesus (Gal 3:28). “For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone who the Lord our God calls to him. . . All who believed were together and had all things in common” (Ac 2:39,44). May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with us all.

“O taste and see that the Lord is good. Happy are those who take refuge in him” (Ps 34:8).

Under the mercy of Christ,

Kent

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Kent Hansen is a Christian attorney, author and speaker. He practices corporate law and is the managing attorney of the firm of Clayson, Mann, Yaeger & Hansen in Corona, California. Kent also serves as the general counsel of Loma Linda University and Medical Center in Loma Linda, California.

Finding God’s grace revealed in the ordinary experiences of life, spiritual renewal in Christ and prayer are Kent’s passions. He has written two books, Grace at 30,000 Feet and Other Unexpected Places published by Review & Herald in 2002 and Cleansing Fire, Healing Streams: Experiencing God’s Love Through Prayer, published by Pacific Press in spring 2007. Many of his stories and essays about God’s encompassing love have been published in magazines and journals. Kent is often found on the hiking trails of the southern California mountains, following major league baseball, playing the piano or writing his weekly email devotional, “A Word of Grace for Your Monday” that is read by men and women from Alaska to Zimbabwe.

Kent and his beloved Patricia are enjoying their 31st year of marriage. They are the proud parents of Andrew, a college student.

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Dear Friends:

A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her , ‘Give me a drink.’(His disciples had gone to the city to buy food). (Jn 4:7-8).

She slips out the door into blinding light.

It’s noon in a high desert town. Buildings and streets flicker and blur in radiated light. Nothing else moves. Dogs are too engrossed in their panting to bark.

Hot rocks and sand beneath her sandals bring the soles of her feet to a slow broil. The relentless sunshine glints off the glaze of the water jar under her arm and magnifies its heat on her face.

There is no shade at mid-day. One either stays inside or moves quickly out to a task and back inside.

She prefers this time to get the water. The other women do this chore before the day is an hour old. She wakes late to their banter and lies still to wait for the sound to drop to murmurs as they pass her house. It’s a grim game she plays with herself each morning, knowing they are talking about her, imagining the insults.

The cool of daybreak is comfortable for neither them nor her when she joins them on their errand. She learned that in one attempt carried out in awkward silence. It was the first and last time. Sychar is too small a town to offer social alternatives. The well is pretty much it as far as entertainment goes.

That she isn’t alone occurs to her before she even sees the man sitting on the stone lip of the well. A woman living on the edge senses these things because survival depends on seeing before you are seen.

He’s a Jew, a rabbi. She can see that in his clothing. The well is an unlikely place for him to be at noon.

She knows they will not speak. Jewish rabbis and Samaritan women do not acknowledge each other on the road or anyplace else. Even if one could get by the differences in religion, gender, and ethnicity, the ancient fears and resentments have hardened into mutual contempt.  But she has crossed a lot of lines in her life, and shame has long since done its worst to her, so she looks right at him.

Is he asleep or praying? She slows her approach in the shade of the sycamore trees. He raises his head and looks straight into her eyes.

She meets his gaze without deference. She knows how to appraise men–their looks, their attitudes, what they think about her–all in a second. But this one is a book she hasn’t read.

He speaks as if he was waiting for her to come.

“Give me a drink,” he says. She can’t tell whether it is a question or an order. His voice is just soft enough to make her listen.

For his part, he is tired. The only power he feels is his thirst and he has no means of quenching it.  He’s been waiting, alone, for the Father’s provision, enjoying a blessed respite from the patter and complaints of his traveling companions.

He sees the woman and quickly considers the time of day, the fact that she is alone, the large jar that she is carrying, and the fact that she catches his gaze. He smiles at the Father’s wry humor in sending him a fallen Samaritan woman as an answer to his immediate need, and his first thought is a silent “Thank you.”

Her eyes flicker for a split second with surprise and he takes that in.  He is thirsty and she’s come to draw water. The opportunity of a common need presents itself. There’s no need for pretense or games, or even the elaborate formalities of traditions.

Jesus, by the power of his word, separated the sea from the dry land at the Creation of the Earth (Gen 1:9-10; Heb 1:2).  He speaks now to the Samaritan woman in the humility of human need.

“Give me a drink.” Four words:”Give,” a verb that confesses need and pleads for grace; “me,” a pronoun that is the indirect object that identifies the human with the need; “a,” an article that connects the verb to its direct object in the way that all human communication must connect or fail to be communication; and “drink,” the noun that is the direct object of the verb and identifies the need. With the vagaries of translation, and the uncertainty that always shadows our communication, the pronoun “you” is the unspoken, but understood subject of his statement. They are alone. He is speaking to no one else but her.

We could carp with 21st-Century, post-modern sensibilities that Jesus spoke to the woman with an imperious demand that she serve him or that his lack of a “please,” was an assertion of male dominance or a reflection of John’s gender-bias in recording the encounter.

We may be tempted to rush ahead into the dialogue to get to the marvelous theology about salvation, prophecy, worship and evangelism that will follow.

If we succumb to either of these temptations, we will miss observing the beauty of a moment of creation as powerful as the moment that the world began with God’s declaration, “Let there be light” (Gen 1:1). God’s love begins to do its wonderful creative work of salvation and transformation in the moment when one recognizes as a matter of heart-reality that Christ has acknowledged his or her existence as one of worth and purpose. “For it is the God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ” (2 Cor 4:6).

Her Creator is speaking to her as a human. He does not discount her worth because she is a woman. He does not write off her humanity because she is a Samaritan. Jesus talks to her in the ordinary course of her life and gives her the choice to respond or not.

What are you doing at noon on any weekday? Running errands? Meeting someone for lunch?  Making a phone call that you’ve been putting off? Taking advantage of the break to do some paperwork that has been stacking up? Going to the gym? Enjoying a simple meal while you read and reflect? Do you ever give any consideration to where Jesus Christ is waiting for you as you go about your business?

Where is the well from which you need to draw water? Our lives are lived in offices, conference rooms, kitchens and stores. We make our way down corridors, on streets and through malls. How are we going to get to know Jesus if we don’t meet him in such ordinary places because we spend scant time in cathedrals and retreat centers? How is he going to get to know us if we aren’t open to him joining us in such places?

Jesus waits for us where we live out the gritty details of our lives. He could be anyone in the crowd, you know? (Jn 5:13).  Do not let your fears, resentments,shame or expectations blind you to his life-giving presence.

He makes a promise to us: “When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me, says the Lord” (Jer 29:13-14a). Taking his word on this will change everything for you.

“O taste and see that the Lord is good. Happy are those who take refuge in him (Ps 34:8).

Under the mercy of Christ,

Kent

————————–

Kent Hansen is a Christian attorney, author and speaker. He practices corporate law and is the managing attorney of the firm of Clayson, Mann, Yaeger & Hansen in Corona, California. Kent also serves as the general counsel of Loma Linda University and Medical Center in Loma Linda, California.

Finding God’s grace revealed in the ordinary experiences of life, spiritual renewal in Christ and prayer are Kent’s passions. He has written two books, Grace at 30,000 Feet and Other Unexpected Places published by Review & Herald in 2002 and Cleansing Fire, Healing Streams: Experiencing God’s Love Through Prayer, published by Pacific Press in spring 2007. Many of his stories and essays about God’s encompassing love have been published in magazines and journals. Kent is often found on the hiking trails of the southern California mountains, following major league baseball, playing the piano or writing his weekly email devotional, “A Word of Grace for Your Monday” that is read by men and women from Alaska to Zimbabwe.

Kent and his beloved Patricia are enjoying their 31st year of marriage. They are the proud parents of Andrew, a college student.

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