Psalm 65; John 4:1-28
With Anna starting High School this week, I found myself lost in a few memories from my own teen years. And as I began a fresh study of this morning’s lesson from John’s Gospel, one memory in particular surfaced. It has nothing to do with academics, sports, music or social clubs. It has to do with my male buddies and I being glued to the T.V. so we could be part of the action taking place as we watched “professional wrestling.” Developmentally, I think we were all wired for this. Emotionally, it was a way to process anything we were … well, wrestling with. It was especially cathartic for working out the anger those of us surviving in broken, abusive homes had to deal with. The hyped up battles between all kinds of overblown, ballistic bad guys and super-sensationalized, heroic good guys was something we really looked forward to seeing.
Many of the bad guys were
simple stereotypes based on them being from a hostile foreign country or from a
particular part of American culture. But some were walking, talking, body-throwing,
arm-pinning object lessons. It’s one
of these that came to mind this week.
His character name was “Mr. Perfect.”
I don’t feel a need to describe him in detail. Just know, or perhaps you remember, that he grandly
demonstrated everything anyone needs to know about the foolishness of believing
you are or ever can be perfect at anything. Sadly, and adding some additional poignancy
to this memory, the actor-athlete who performed as Mr. Perfect died in 2003
from a hard drug, steroid and painkiller combination. He was my age at the time.
While this character was
an object lesson that I laughed at, in reality, those were days when I felt all
kinds of cultural pressures to grow into or come as close as possible to
certain ideals of perfection – from my complexion to my clothing to my social
standing to my smarts, my skills, my future career and what kind of family I
should one day have. I drank in every message of imperfection. And when I found myself a few years later,
at the age of 22, standing at Central Presbyterian Church of Summit with a wet
forehead and a fresh identity after receiving the Sacrament of Baptism, I can honestly
say I pressured myself to be some kind of perfect servant of our Lord.
Can you recall times in your
life when you pressured yourself or were pressured by others to strive for
perfection? If so, how’d that go? And did you also believe on some level that
this is what God expected of you?
There is a traditional
folktale of anonymous origin that I find helps us gain some faithful
perspective on the sinful temptation to want to be perfect. It’s a story about a water bearer who
carried two large clay pots attached at the ends of a pole upon his
shoulder. One pot was perfect, always
delivering a full portion of water. It
was proud to perfectly accomplish what it was made for. The other pot, however, had a crack in
it. So when it arrived at the home from
the long walk back from the stream, it did so half-full. It was miserable and ashamed of its
imperfection.
After years of feeling
like a failure, the fragile pot one day spoke to the water bearer. It said, “I’m ashamed of myself. I
apologize to you. I’ve only been able to
deliver half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all
the way back to your house. Because of
my flaw, you’ve had to do all this work and you don’t get full value from your
efforts.” The water bearer responded
right away, saying, “Have you noticed that there are flowers only on your side
of the path? This is because I have
always known about your flaw. So I
decided to plant flower seeds on your side.
Every day, on our walk back, you water them. Through our years together, I’ve been able to
pick the loveliest flowers to decorate my dining table. Without you being just the way you are, there
wouldn’t be this beauty to grace my home.”
God knows, none of us is
perfect. None of is perfect in our
family life, our friendships, our employment, our citizenship, our faithful
service to the Lord. But what an
inspiration this little story is. It
invites us to accept ourselves for who we are and to trust that God (the One
who truly carries us on every pathway of life) knows us fully, loves us fully,
and graciously chooses to grow beauty in this world through us. Imperfections and all!
In the fourth chapter of
John’s Gospel, we meet one of God’s imperfect but very precious pots. She is an unnamed woman called upon to
realize that she is filled with the living water of salvation in Jesus Christ. At the start of this true life story, she
is presented as being a fragile pot.
She had come to be this way because of people’s perceptions and
definitions of her. How we choose to see, and how Jesus sees us, is a key theme throughout John’s
Gospel.
Her fellow Samaritans apparently saw her in
quite a negative light. All John tells
us as to why has to do with the number of her marriage partners. Generally, women of her ancient culture were
socially marginalized and shamed, unable to live independently. So the negative light likely had to do with
her being widowed or divorced any number of times, or, out of necessity, financially
dependent on a male she was not married too.
Whatever the exact reason, it
apparently forced her to fetch water from the well in town at midday, in the scorching
hot sun. Nobody chose to go to the well
at that time of day. So she really
would have only done this to avoid being seen and reminded with unkind words or
sideways glances from her own people about her culturally appointed
imperfections.
Her neighboring Jews
would have seen her and immediately felt animosity. Despite common ancestors, Jews and Samaritan
had a long standing ethnic, religious rivalry.
Actually, it’s more like Jews wouldn’t have seen her at all -- they usually
avoided traveling through Samaria altogether.
And yet with cultural
boundaries firmly in place, a tired and thirsty Jesus not only traveled through
Samaria, he sat down for a spell at that very well. At high noon.
In the brightest light of
day. To reveal a different Son. That’s when she sees him and he truly sees
her. Rather than abiding by a lot of
religious and traditional rules strictly forbidding such a thing, they then
have a radically honest and direct conversation about faithful identity, the
hope of salvation and true worship. By
the end of it, she is transformed. She
realized Jesus is her Messiah, her well of hope, the bearer and giver of life
sustaining spiritual water, the pure source of her salvation and that of the
world. She accepted that she had been
gifted with this living water and that it was welling up within her and that
she no longer needed to feel dependent upon that old worldly well with its
ethnic controversy and social oppressions.
Seeing herself as Jesus saw her, she confidently leaves behind her old
water and enthusiastically presents herself as a precious pot full of the
Lord’s living water for everyone in town to see. And though they all still saw her as
cracked, they got watered along their rough edges. And beautiful salvation through Jesus came
to bloom and grow among them all.
Imperfect as we are, the
Living Water that is Jesus, with His life saving and sustaining grace and love,
the water symbolized in our baptisms, is within all of us too through the free
flowing power of the Holy Spirit. As is
later declared in John’s Gospel, in verse 38 of chapter 7, “Out of the
believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.” And so may our heart sing a praise song --
“Flow river flow, flood the nations with grace and mercy, send forth Your Word,
Lord and let there be light!” May we all rejoice in believing that we are
fully known, filled to overflow with love, and graciously called by God to let
the Living Water leak, spill and flow out of us today as we carry on being
carried through all of life’s labors. Amen.
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