Category: writing

A Water Jar Left Behind

And she goes on her way to proclaim God’s Gospel truth—to preach.

“I think the church is caving in to women preachers.”

Well-known pastor, John MacArthur, spoke these words this past weekend at a celebration of his 50th year in ministry. Speaking on a stage with two other men (no women), MacArthur made other negative, dismissive and derisive comments about evangelical women leaders and the #MeToo movement. https://religionnews.com/2019/10/19/accusing-sbc-of-caving-john-macarthur-says-beth-moore-should-go-home/

I began preaching the Gospel in 1987 as a pastor in the mountains of Virginia. Now, 32 years later, I am honored to teach ministry students every day at the Wake Forest University School of Divinity. Many of those students are women, and they are called to preach. I have heard their voices. They are astounding, insightful, passionate, and prophetic preachers.

The best way I know to respond when comments like MacArthur’s make news headlines is to do what God called me to do—preach. I offered the following sermon at one of our school’s new student orientation services several years ago. The sermon text was John 4, a story that carries the familiar title, “The Woman at the Well.”

Called to preach

Thirst. High noon. A well. And a water jar left behind.

They meet at Jacob’s well. A well that holds stories. Maybe even secrets.

Jesus is on his way somewhere else. She is collecting water. As she does everyday. Alone. At noon. To survive. 

They meet. And when they meet? So do their personal stories. And the realities of their lives. A Jewish man. A Samaritan woman. And a long history of cultural, political and religious clashes between their peoples. A long history of too many assumptions. Too many prejudices. A long history of conversations never shared, of possibilities and mysteries never set free. 

They meet. And when they meet. Something happens. 

Don’t be fooled by the misogynist veneer too many sermons have put over this story. Sometimes we are too quick to think and act like we know the woman in this story—what she lacks and what she needs. And yet—we don’t even know her name. How can we know what she needs if we haven’t gotten close enough to her even to know her name? And Jesus? We think we know about Jesus too…and yet…

They meet. And when they meet? A conversation. 26 verses. The longest conversation Jesus has with anyone in the Gospel of John. Not one of those kinds where one person is a submissive listener while the other waxes eloquent with spit-shined but unsubstantiated advice. This is a real conversation. Not small talk. A lively dance of words between two thirsty people. Words that dip and weave around complex theological topics—living water, worship, spirit, truth, salvation, the identity of the Messiah. 

The woman? She is wise in her life-weariness, and she asks questions, insists on clarifications, offers her opinions. She is bold. Fearless, in a way, too. Because she chooses to have conversation with him. In spite of who she thinks he is and in the face of all that other people have assumed she is.

And Jesus? Even as he talks about living water he is bone tired, thirsty, vulnerable—dependent upon her hospitality because he has no bucket and she? She has the water jar she carries with her everyday, and she offers hospitality—the thirst-quenching water in her jar mingling with water offered by Rachel and Zipporah and countless other women right here at Jacob’s well…

They meet. And when they meet? Something happens. Jesus—talks about living water and invites her to look again at what she thinks she knows about water. About life. And Jesus—the thirsty one who has no bucket—could it be that as she offers him water, he sees her? And sees in her the spirit and truth she bears with courage to that well everyday? Does he see in her something he needs to know about himself?

She sees him. He sees her. Shared vulnerability. Mutual regard. No distancing stares or objectifying gazes. She sees him. He sees her. Both are changed. Redeemed somehow. Jesus claims his identity as Messiah—in her presence. She is the first person in the Gospel to whom Jesus makes a bold statement of self-revelation. She is a witness. And she goes on her way—to proclaim new truth. To preach.

Amen.

Draw deep, pour out, preach

Photo by Jill Crainshaw

Are we the woman with the water jar,
bent on the chore of the moment,
intent on survival,
weariness living in our bones,
thirst for God drowning in the business of the day?

She is strong,
physically strong enough to carry that jar of water.
Maybe we can understand that.
What it means to be strong—
but not so strong.
Sure—but not so sure.
Seeking—

Then—in the noonday lull—
A tired stranger with no bucket.
Drawing deep.
Pouring out.
She is changed.
Jesus is changed.
We are changed.
Drinking water becomes living water.
An everyday chore becomes Gospel vocation.
An encounter with a stranger becomes a call to preach.

Her witness lives on today.
The empty jar.
A well of daily comings and goings.
Called.

“Draw deep.”
”Pour out.”

Preach Gospel news
In the name of the One who
Creates,
Redeems,
and sustains.

Affirm, Highlight, Respond

Blogtober is challenging me and encouraging me to grow in three ways.

I accepted the Blogtober challenge. On Tuesday, October 1, I began. That was fourteen days ago. A decalogue plus four days of blogs.

Why do people do it—write blogs each day about what they see, hear, think, and do? I realize, after all, that my life isn’t that exciting or interesting to anyone but me, even when I share cute dog stories! Neither are my opinions that intriguing. So why blog? And why decide to do it every day for a 31-day month?

Blogtober is challenging me and encouraging me to grow in three significant ways.

I am writing every day.

I love to write. At least, that is what I tell people: “I am a happier person when I write. More at peace. More centered.” This seems to be true for me.

And then I don’t write for days. Even weeks. My calendar fills up. I get involved in other projects. Writing gets pushed to the sidelines. I am less happy. Less at peace. Less centered.

Blogtober has given me a goal. Can I find 31 topics I want to write about? Do I have enough desire and self-discipline to write every day for 31 days? Or is stubborn perseverance the most vital ingredient for meeting this challenge? Will I keep writing even on the days when no one reads or “likes” or “hearts” my post?

These questions still await answers.

For now? Writers write. And so far this month? I am a writer!

I am connecting with other bloggers every day.

Bloggers can be a supportive bunch. We read each other’s posts. We learn from each other’s writing styles and tips.

I am reading other blogs as I post my own, and I am fascinated and often awed by the insights shared with skill and beauty by storytellers, essayists, poets and others who blog. Tens of thousands of people are sharing their voices in the blogosphere. I enjoy hearing those voices.

One result? I am realizing anew that human lives, including my own, are extraordinary even in their ordinariness. Ordinary human lives have a certain sacramental quality about them. At least, that is what this liturgical theologian believes. Significant life meaning dwells in mundane human living. I want to do a better job of noticing and celebrating those meanings.

I am embodying a healthy life rhythm: affirming, highlighting, responding.

“Medium” is a digital community where people write articles about topics ranging from technology to health to religion and more. In 2016, 140,000 stories were written and published every week on Medium.

The platform is set up so that readers give virtual “claps” for articles that capture their imaginations or stir their emotions. Readers can also highlight favorite phrases or sentences in articles and share related responses with the writers.

I joined Medium as part of the Blogtober challenge. I wanted to try out a new publishing venue. I have appreciated writing on a platform where I can give and receive respectful feedback and affirmation.

The practice Medium encourages is not a bad one for life in general. Criticism and critique abound in our world. Respectful dialogue can be rare. Perhaps a healthy dialogue rhythm, even with people whose perspectives differ from our own, is the rhythm I am learning through Medium: affirm, highlight, respond.

I invite all of us to consider embodying a version of this blogging rhythm: affirm, highlight, respond. Perhaps doing this–and even writing about it:)–will encourage healthier and more life-sustaining conversations in our lives and communities. Concrete affirmations are a rare gift, and we have opportunities everyday to congratulation people on the specific ways their lives are touching us and the world around us.

One healthy result of this rhythm is that it nudges me to affirm what I like about another person’s article, be specific about what struck me by highlighting particular parts of the article, and then share something from my own perspective by responding. This practice slows down the response time (something that can be lightning fast on social media sites) so that I am more thoughtful and intentional in my response.

Today is October 14. Seventeen more days until Halloween. Seventeen more blog posts. Seventeen more ideas and insights to explore. And on October 31, after posting the last of my Blogtober articles, I think I will give myself a virtual standing ovation and then head out in search of the Great Pumpkin–or at least a taste of chocolate Halloween treats!