Will You Give Me a Drink?

John 4:5-42; Exodus 17:1-17

Barbara Brown Taylor wrote a piece about buying land in rural Georgia that she eventually built a house on. She told about meeting the builder whose first question was, “Where’s your well?”   Like me (you too?) she was a city girl. Her water had always come from a tap, a faucet, or a hose in the backyard. The realization hit her, if she was going to have running water, she would need a well. So, the well-driller came out and sized up the situation and began the process of drilling to find the water table – “much like a lab technician trying to find a vein.” By the next afternoon, he had drilled three large holes and struck nothing but rock. As he positioned his drill over spot number four, she thought about the rivers of life that ran under the land’s surface that she was trying to tap into.  When she heard a yelp go up, she knew “the earth had granted [her] a lifeline.” In this process, Taylor became all the more aware that fresh water is actually a limited resource.  And while most of her neighbors have their own wells, after a few years into a drought, she could see the wisdom in a village well – a central place where neighbors meet to draw water. She says perhaps neighbors would do a better job holding each other accountable – not putting paint thinner down the drain, or washing the car twice a week, if they shared a well. Perhaps they would talk more about the need for conservation so that the well and the neighbors would be around for a long time. She said they might even understand how wells come to be called sacred, and why water is the most fundamental sacrament of all.[1]

The woman in today’s gospel text shares a village well in the heart of Samaria. Jesus is passing through and stops to rest. She comes to the well at Noon bringing her water jar and Jesus asks her for a drink.  She’s astonished at this – a Jewish man asking a Samaritan woman for a drink, right here in broad daylight!  There are a number of barriers to overcome for this interaction to even happen, much less for a genuine, vulnerable conversation to ensue. Their gender difference, ethnic identities, faiths, and social roles all stand in the way of them speaking to each other, but Jesus initiates anyway, confessing his own need: he is thirsty.  It’s a simple request. But as she points out, he has no bucket, no way to draw water from the well.  He admits his vulnerability waiting there at the well of his ancestor, Jacob. He asks for help. Surely she gave him a ladle full as they continued talking. Then he speaks to her of “living water” (v. 11) that will never run out and she is intrigued.  One commentator called this a parallel confession.[2]  Here is the giver of living water, thirsty himself. A thirsty Messiah and a resourceful woman discover that they need each other.[3] She mirrors his request, asking for the living water he describes. Then when he asks her to go get her husband and bring him back with her, she makes a vulnerable admission that she has no husband.  Maybe because Jesus was willing to start the conversation with a vulnerable request, then she trusted him enough to tell him the truth. Without judgment, Jesus names the truth of her complicated history and affirms the truth of what she said.

Much has been made of the woman coming to the village well at noon. Was she avoiding gossip? Was she circumventing confrontation? Was her status in the community compromised by questionable morality?  Chances are she had had five husbands due to tragedy: the mortality rate was pretty high. But if it was through divorce, she had no agency of her own as a modest woman. She would have had no choice in the matter. Regardless, the woman’s story is so much more than those speculations and assumptions. And we don’t even know her name. Kendall Rothaus has named her Milla (the Hebrew word for ‘speech’).[4] This conversation here in John 4 is the longest conversation Jesus has with anyone in the New Testament. “Milla” engages Jesus in meaningful theological dialogue.  And while she misses his meaning of “living water” she’s in good company in John’s gospel. Everyone misunderstands Jesus initially! She shows a desire for what Jesus is offering, a curiosity for what he’s teaching, even when it makes her question her own faith and practice. [5] Jesus “invites her to embrace a future where neither of their inherited faiths wins the argument because God’s plan is for so much more.”[6] She is the first person to whom Jesus makes the claim in John’s gospel, that he is the expected Messiah. With that good news, she becomes a disciple and an evangelist. She leaves her water bucket behind, because she has a new purpose.  “Come and see” she says in verse 29. Remember that is the same way Jesus called Peter, James and John by the sea of Galilee? She sounds more like Jesus than the disciples do! “Come and see a man who has told me everything I’ve done! Could this man be the Christ?”
Her two-sentence sermon is VERY effective. She draws others into her curiosity, leading them to Jesus.

Last week, we heard the story of Nicodemus who approached Jesus with cautious curiosity. This woman and Nicodemus couldn’t be more different from one another on the outside: gender, class, status, ethnicity and religion. She is there in the broad daylight. He comes in the middle of the night. But they both respond to him earnestly seeking… He draws them in with ideas like being born again, and finding living water. He meets them where they are - connecting with their longing, their intellect, their need. The takeaway from these two personal encounters: Jesus will reveal himself to anyone, anytime – night or day – who is seeking him. No where is too far, too dark, or too hot. He will meet us wherever we are. That’s good news.

Nicodemus went away from his encounter, silent. We don’t hear from him again until later in John’s gospel. But “Milla” feels free to voice her thoughts and her questions. She shows us “that faith is about dialogue, about growth and change. It is not about having all the answers.”[7]

God is surely thirsty for followers who are more curious than certain, who are seeking more than settling, who keep asking the hard questions rather than trying to harness the Mystery.

Will you give me a drink?
It matters what you are thirsty for!

 It reminds me of the little boy who comes inside from playing and tells his Dad that he is sooooo thirsty.  Dad responds kindly, finishes what he’s working on, puts his things away, meanders into the kitchen, forgets why he came in there… oh yeah… He searches for the right cup, not breakable, not likely to tip over, not too big… Meanwhile, the little boy yells from other room,  “Daaaaaad?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Are you working on my thirstiness?”

 People are thirsty!
What are we thirsty for?
God designed us for benevolent connection. And that requires us not just to be charitable, but vulnerable.[8] Can you let yourself admit your own spiritual thirstiness? How long has it been since you drank from the  bucket?
It doesn’t matter. God will still meet us at the well.

People are thirsty. People are thirsty for community that upholds them when they are in a spiritual drought. People are thirsty for churches with open hearts and open minds. People are thirsty for friendship that is less judgmental and more generous. People are thirsty for a rest and relief from the chaos and violence of this world. People are thirsty for churches that aren’t wrapping their sermon, their Sunday school, their faith in the American flag. People are thirsty for peace, for hope, for purpose, for belonging. People are thirsty for churches that welcome them just as they are.

When thirsty people come to us asking, Will you give me a drink? Let us remember Jesus saying, “If you only knew what God is offering and who it is saying to you: Give me a drink, you would have been the one to ask and Living water would start flowing from the tap.” When people come asking: Will you give me a drink? Let us remember Jesus saying, When you do it for the one of the least of these, you do it for me. Let us not tire of giving out cups of water.

People are thirsty! It’s okay to admit you’re thirsty! Because we are a thirst-quenching well!! Weatherly is a well of living water.  We are the neighbors who share this village well. At this well, we ask honest questions. We seek deeper faith. And so, we have to keep showing up, to hold each other accountable, to keep the dialogue going, to grow our faith through conversation… And we want to make sure we don’t contaminate the well… with pride, or stubbornness, or hard heartedness, or closed minds or tight fists. This is the well of our ancestors, where we come to draw water, and meet God, and to hold the bucket for someone else to get a drink.

[1] Taylor, Barbara Brown, Faith Matters, Christian Century Aug 2000, The sacred well

[2] Rice, Serena, Christian Century commentary, March 2026, “Jesus…confesses his own need.”

[3] Vena, Osvaldo, Working Preacher commentary, John 4:5-42

[4] Rothaus, Kendall Rae, Sojourners, Living the Word March 2026 commentary, People are Thirsty

[5] Holmes, Laura, Working Preacher commentary, John 4:5-42, March 2026

[6] Rice ibid.

[7] Lewis, Karoline

[8] Shroyer, Danielle, Sanctified Art, Seeking commentary