Jesus and The Sistah at the Well

One of my favorite Bible stories is the woman at the well. Every time I hear it, something stirs in me. I don’t just hear her story—I feel it. I imagine her weariness, her scars, her shame, and her thirst. In so many ways, I understand her.

She lived in a town called Sychar.

Every time I read that name, I think of the word scar. Wounds. Hurt. Pain. Things you carry quietly, even when the world sees only your smile.

Jesus, tired from His journey, stopped at the well to rest. That’s not a small detail. A well isn’t just a waterhole—it’s an underground reservoir. You have to dig deep into the earth to reach hidden resources that sustain life.

That moment was symbolic. Both Jesus and the woman came to the well looking for something.

• She came looking for water to meet her daily needs.

• He came looking for a heart He could pour into, someone willing to carry His word.

And who better than a woman with scars?

Now, let me paint the scene my way—the “Valerie version.”

I imagine this woman was tired before she even got there. She had probably been up since dawn cooking, cleaning, and dealing with that man she lived with. On top of that, she had to drag herself into the blistering heat to fetch heavy jars of water. Back then, it was the woman’s job to get the water. To this day, I still don’t understand why—it wasn’t the easiest of tasks.

And then there were the neighbors. Lord, have mercy. The whispers followed her like shadows:

“Here she comes again, living with a man who ain’t even her husband. ” That’s number five, you know. She can’t keep one.”

She was tired of it. Tired of the gossip. Tired of the judgment. Maybe that’s why she went to the well at the hottest time of the day—just to avoid them. She chose the sun’s heat over the heat of their words.

But when she arrived, instead of peace, she found a man waiting. Not just any man—a Jew. That alone was shocking enough.

To bring it closer to home, imagine this: a poor, homeless, Muslim woman walks to the grocery store to buy food for her hungry kids. She gets to the door and finds Jesus standing there.

Jesus: “Hey sis, can you grab me a loaf of bread while you’re in there?”

Woman (thinking): Really? You can’t get your own bread? Out loud: “Wait… You’re talking to me? I’m Muslim. I’m homeless. I don’t even go to church.”

Jesus: “You don’t know it yet, but I represent a God who can give you more than bread. I can feed your soul—and your children’s souls—forever"

.Woman: “Forever? With what? You don’t even have a cart or bags to carry food in.

Jesus: “Even if you filled your cart today, it would run empty again. What I offer never runs out—it overflows."

Woman: “Well then, fill my cart up!”

Jesus: “Okay, but go get your husband to help you carry it"

Woman: “I don’t have a husband.”

Jesus: “I know. You’ve had many men in your life, but none of them satisfied your soul either.”

And in that moment—He exposed her truth, but not to shame her. To free her. To show her that even with her scars, she was seen, known, loved, and chosen.

Woman: “This has to be God. You know all about me, yet You still want to help me. You still accept me. You still love me. You must be the Son of God.”

And just like that, she left her water jar behind—the very thing she came for—and ran to tell everybody:

“Y’all, come meet this man who told me everything about myself. And even knowing my mess, He filled me up with love and hope anyway!”

Reflection

I love this story because it reminds me of myself—and maybe it reminds you of you too. So many of us show up at the “well” carrying our scars, our shame, and our secrets. We just want to get through the day, fill our jars, and avoid the gossip.

But Jesus meets us right there. At the well. At the grocery store. In our weariness. In our scars. He doesn’t just expose our truth—He redeems it. He doesn’t just fill our jar—He fills our soul.

And like the woman at the well, once you taste that living water, you can’t help but run and tell somebody: “Come meet the man who gave me life.”