John 4:4–42

The direct route to Galilee ran through the district of Samaria, so He "had to go" that way. That was a matter of geography. But there was also a necessity tied to the grace of God. It set Him on a road that brought Him to one particular city of Samaria, called Sychar.

Why did He have to pass through Samaria? It is true that the direct route to Galilee ran through Samaria. But strict Jews took other routes, to avoid a people they despised. So the need was not a question of roads and countries. May we not say instead that the need was in the heart of God? Before the world was made, God had purposed blessing for a poor sinful woman in Samaria. To win that soul and gladden the heart of God, Jesus had to go through Samaria.

The "must" in chapter 4:4 is a practical one. The straight way was through Samaria, and the Jews usually went that way, though they did not stop in Samaria as they passed. I would not say He went on purpose to meet this woman — though it was God's purpose that He should.

Now, in John 4, Jesus is driven away by the jealousy of the Jews. He begins His ministry outside that people, while still recognising their true place in God's dealings. He goes away into Galilee, but His road led Him past Samaria... Being weary, He sits down outside the town at the edge of the well — for He had to go that way. But this necessity gave occasion for the working of that divine grace which was in the fullness of His Person, and which overflowed the narrow limits of Judaism.

He went towards Galilee, and had to go through Samaria. There He met the woman and brought blessing to her soul, and that brought blessing to many others too. If some reject His grace, their unbelief does not dry up the channel — it diverts it, and others get it.

The Jews were acting in consistent righteousness when they refused all dealings with the Samaritans... They were to be God's witnesses against the world. They were the clean, kept separate from the unclean, as a testimony to the righteousness of God against a corrupted earth. But Jesus was now standing apart from Israel. He had left Judea, the place of righteousness, and stood in defiled Samaria as Son of God, the Saviour of sinners. He had already gone to Judea looking for righteousness, the proper fruit of that country, and had not found it. He is not going to look for it in Samaria either. Here He must act in another way altogether — in the way of grace only.

She too was weary, as her words soon show. She was alone, as He was alone — but that only makes the contrast greater. She was in the sin that leaves a person isolated, shamed and condemned; He was in the unique glory of His Person and of His search... They were at opposite extremes, on opposite paths, and yet they met. It was not by her will or her planning, and she did not know what lay ahead of her. On His side it was the love that carried its own necessity: "He had to pass through Samaria."

The direct route to Galilee lay through the district of Samaria, so geography alone meant He "had to pass through". But there was a second necessity too, one connected with the grace of God. It set Him on a road that brought Him to one particular city of Samaria, called Sychar.

He reached Sychar, now Askar, about a mile east of Shechem, which is now called Nablus. Close to that city was Jacob's well, and through all the country's changes it has remained to this day. Generations may come and go, dynasties rise and fall, but wells remain from generation to generation. Springs are plentiful in that district by Shechem, yet Jacob dug his own well. That would make him independent of the usual water supply in the country. It may also have marked out his ownership of that piece of land.

We find the Lord now at Sychar, a name that means "purchased". The town took its name from the piece of land Jacob bought from the sons of Hamor and gave to Joseph, who was buried there. So all that Jacob had bought — though he meant it otherwise — and all that he could give to his best-loved son, was a grave. It was a good place to speak of another gift and another purchase, free to all who wanted it and looked for it: a spring of life instead of a place of death. Jacob's spring could be both a picture of that new spring and — as every picture must be — an instructive contrast to it.

Joshua 24:32 speaks of the piece of ground in verse 5. It was Joseph's burial place, and his father Jacob had bought it. Joseph's death is a picture of the death of the Lord Jesus, and that death is the very basis for giving the water of life to guilty sinners.

Joseph is a well-known picture of Christ… Take, for example, John 4:6. Why does it say that "Jacob's well was there"? Surely to catch our attention in some special way; and Genesis 49:22 uncovers the secret. Joseph, we read, is a fruitful bough, a fruitful bough by a well, whose branches run over the wall. So in this tired Man, who sat by the well of Sychar in the noonday heat, we see the true Joseph. Even while we look at Him, we see His branches running over the wall of Judaism, reaching this poor woman of Samaria with their good fruit.

The Samaritans of the Lord's day were rightly seen as a corrupt race. 2 Kings 17:24-41 records the beginning of their history. After Assyria carried away the ten tribes, its king resettled the land with men from Babylon and other pagan cities… The result was a corrupt people who "feared the LORD but also served their own gods". So they had some dim knowledge of the Lord, and of the Messiah who was coming.

When the Jews refused all dealings with the Samaritans, they were acting in keeping with righteousness… They were to be God's witnesses against the world… But Jesus was now standing apart from Israel. He had left Judea, the place of righteousness. He stood in defiled Samaria as Son of God, the Saviour of sinners. He had already gone to Judea looking for righteousness, the proper fruit of that country, but had not found it. He is not now to look for it in Samaria. Here He must be in another way altogether, in the way of grace only.

The everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, never faints and never grows weary. Yet here He is a Stranger in the land, wearied with His journey. The One who made every drop of water in the universe is Himself a thirsty Man in the world His hands had made. In heavenly glory, angelic hosts had always surrounded Him. On earth He appears as a lonely Man.

Houtōs, "thus" — that is, just as He was (compare Mark 4:36). The "wearied," as Zahn says, emphasises His humanity.

He sat just as He was — on the well, wearied, thirsty, hungry. How truly Man He was! In His spirit He felt the hatred and rejection of the Jews with perfect sensitivity. In His body He felt the hardships of life too — the heat of the midday sun, the roughness and the length of the way, the pangs of hunger and thirst. And yet He was God, the giver of living water. He was wearied in body but unwearied in His love. At that well side He found both rest and food in doing the will of Him who sent Him.

He was weary with His journey and sat alone in the world — what an astonishing place! This was the world He had created. More than that, it was the world He had come into in love. And here He is only a weary Man, feeling the rejection of His love. In the place He had taken, He depended for a drink of water on this poor sin-wearied woman — He who had made the water. Grace is in the humbled and obedient Man — that is where what God is shines out.

It is the sixth hour — twelve o'clock. The sun, at its height, was pouring its burning rays on the ground. That is the moment the Lord chooses to pass that way, to meet that soul. The Spirit records the fact. And why? Because that was not the time when women in the East went out to draw water. That was done in the morning, or in the evening, when the heat was not so great (Genesis 24:11). But this woman comes out in the middle of the day... Her sin had isolated her.

The time seems to have been six in the evening, for the disciples had gone away into the city to buy food, which might have been for the evening meal. After this the Lord went into the city, and many of the Samaritans believed. They asked Him to stay with them. That was a kindness often shown in the East when the day was far spent.

Why is it mentioned, "Now Jacob's well was there"? Surely to catch our attention in some special way; and Genesis 49:22 uncovers the secret. Joseph, we read, is a fruitful bough, a fruitful bough by a well, whose branches run over the wall. So in this wearied Man who sat by the well of Sychar, we see the true Joseph. Even while we look at Him, we see His branches running over the wall of Judaism. They reach this poor woman of Samaria with their good fruit.

Just think of the Lord Himself. None of the rulers of this world knew Him, yet He was the Lord of glory. He sat there weary on the well, thirsty, depending on this world for a drink of water — the world He Himself made, and it did not know Him! And now He depends on this woman for a drink of water.

He sat there — just as He was — on the well, weary, thirsty, hungry. How truly Man He was! In His spirit He felt the hatred and rejection of the Jews with perfect sensitivity. In His body He felt the hardships of life too: the heat of the midday sun, the rough and long road, the pangs of hunger and thirst. And yet He was God, the giver of living water. He was wearied in body but unwearied in His love.

He simply says, "Give me a drink." Why did He ask for a drink of water? The well was deep, and He had nothing to draw with. But could He not have worked a miracle to quench His thirst? For others He works miracles of grace. Yet we never read that He worked a miracle to meet His own needs. There is only one answer. The eternal Son, sent by the Father to be the Saviour of the world, stoops in the greatness of His way to owe a fallen woman a cup of cold water — and so to win the confidence of her lonely heart.

The One who made the heart knows perfectly the way into its affections… God, in the lowliness of a man, asks the Samaritan woman for a favour, a drink of water. But it was to open her heart to her own needs, and to give her eternal life in the power of the Holy Spirit.

Her sin had cut her off. Her sin drove her into complete loneliness. She avoided the faces and company of people, and went out to be alone — but she walked into the company of God. She avoided the face of man, because she feared his frown and his judgment. But see the grace of Christ: He goes to that place at the very moment He knew He would meet her.

The Lord broke the silence with the simple request, "Give me a drink." Those few words opened the way for everything that followed. Asked by this stranger to meet His need, she answered with surprise… How differently Rebekah had acted, when a stranger asked her for water (Genesis 24:18). But in her day religious argument had not soured people's minds, or made them forget ordinary courtesy.

Here is the great truth, and not knowing it ruins the world. People do not know who it is that asks them for a drink… still asking a favour of them. The difference the world does not see is this: it is the Son of God who humbles Himself like this to ask sinners to come. It is the Lord of glory doing it.

He became a poor, needy, lonely man by a well side. That was how He reached a poor fallen woman and brought heaven's best gifts to earth's worst sinners. At the very moment He is enriching us with a fountain of water springing up to eternal life, He Himself has become so poor that He must ask for a drink of water.

Weary, hungry and thirsty, He sat at the well side. His power upholds the planets in their tireless courses, and His opened hand satisfies the need of every living thing. Yet He sat there at the well, waiting and alone. He was waiting because at that hour a solitary sinner came to that place, weary, hungry and thirsty in another sense. It was His Father's will that He should meet and bless her there. He was alone because He had sent His disciples away to buy food. That gave them the opportunity of serving Him, and kept them from pushing their unsympathetic presence into the sacred meeting that was to come. Such was His gracious and considerate way with them.

Birth and growth, eating and drinking, hunger and thirst, weariness and sleep all belong to the human body. They appear here in connection with the body of the Lord. They prove how real the body He took was, and how truly it was marked by all that is characteristic of the human body, sin apart.

Coming to Jacob's well, and being "wearied with His journey", He sat on the well-side. Not only is He weary, but thirsty; for He asks the woman, who at this moment comes to the well, to give Him water to drink. Moreover, since the disciples have gone into the neighbouring city to buy food, the Lord is alone.

It was quite consistent with righteousness that the Jews refused all dealings with the Samaritans. It was according to their calling to say, "It is unlawful for a Jew to keep company with, or to visit, anyone of another nation;" for this was a testimony against evil, and such testimony was the very trust which Jehovah had committed to Israel... But Jesus was now standing apart from Israel. He had left Judea, the place of righteousness, and was standing in defiled Samaria as Son of God, the Saviour of sinners.

The Lord sat on the well-side about midday, as the time of greatest heat approached. Nicodemus sought Him by night. He sought a Samaritan sinner at midday... Many of us would own that it takes more spiritual skill to deal rightly with an individual than to address a crowd, and makes a bigger demand on our courage.

The time seems to have been six in the evening, for the disciples were gone away into the city to buy food, which might have been for the evening meal.

He is alone with sinners, settling with them the great interests of their souls, in the grace and power of the Son of God. And blessed it is to see this. It is one of the dearest thoughts to us sinners, that we may be alone with Jesus, and that apostles and churches, or fellow-believers and ordinances, are not needed for this business which is to determine our own personal, individual eternity.

The disciples had left Him, in want of rest and drink and food. He had had none. They return to find Him wonderfully refreshed and satisfied, though the sources of it were too deep for them to enter into: "I have food to eat that you do not know about … My food is to do the will of Him who sent me, and to finish His work."

The Samaritans of the Lord's day were rightly seen as a corrupt race. 2 Kings 17:24-41 records how they began. After the ten tribes went into captivity, the Assyrian king repopulated the land with men from Babylon and other pagan cities. They lived in the land of the LORD, yet did not fear the LORD, so the LORD troubled them. To deal with this trouble, the Assyrian king sent a priest of the LORD to teach them the ways of the LORD. The result was a corrupt people who "feared the LORD, and served their own gods". So they had some dim knowledge of the Lord, and of the coming Messiah.

So in reading the Old Testament we cannot miss this: God told His people they were not to mix with other nations. Intermarriage was out of the question. (But this separation was soon abused. Pride entered the heart of that nation, and they began to look down on the Gentiles as dogs. God made the distinction between the Jews and the Gentiles. Looking down on the Gentiles was their own failure, an abuse of God's sovereign grace.)

The Jews refused all dealings with the Samaritans, and that was fully consistent with righteousness... They were to be God's witnesses against the world. They were the clean kept apart from the unclean, as a testimony to the righteousness of God against a corrupted earth. But Jesus was now standing apart from Israel. He had left Judea, the place of righteousness. He now stood in defiled Samaria as Son of God, the Saviour of sinners... Here He must be in another way altogether, in the way of grace only.

"A Jew." She knew He was one by His dress.

All she saw was a weary Jew, and notice how far short of the truth the woman of Samaria comes. What was the truth? The One who had said, "Give me a drink," was the One who made the well and the water in it. He was the Creator Himself. She did not know it. He knew it. Only the grace He could bring could meet and save her, a needy sinner... There are depths of grace in God that promises cannot express.

"For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans." The Revised Version of the Bible treats these words as a parenthesis — that is, as an explanatory comment by the writer of the Gospel. Calvin considered them to be spoken by the woman.

The stranger asked her to meet His need. She replied with surprise: how could He, a Jew, ask a drink of her, a woman of Samaria? She knew the controversy between the two parties well, and referred to it at once. How different Rebekah's action had been when a stranger asked her for water (Gen. 24:18). But in her day religious argument had not yet soured minds or made people forget ordinary courtesy.

In the Gospels, the ministry of the Lord Jesus Himself often gave a preview of the removal of this "wall of partition". Take the woman of Samaria. She could not understand how the Lord, a Jew Himself, could say "Give me a drink" to her, a woman of Samaria, since the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans... Until this "wall of partition" came down, it was "unlawful for a Jew to associate with or visit anyone of another nation" (Acts 10:28).

God is love, as well as light. Because He is love, He sent His Son to shine in this world, dark as it is through sin. That is not all the love He shows. It is only the beginning of what rises far above every difficulty and need. When it comes to eternal life and redemption, God is not demanding but giving, and giving only. Both are His gift in Christ. The sinner must know Him this way only — not as a receiver but as the Giver. To take any other place would be beneath His majesty. It denies His nature, twists the truth, and leaves no room for love.

They do not know who it is that asks them for a drink. He is still begging them to be reconciled: "We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God." He is still asking them, in the gentlest and most loving terms, to give themselves to Him. He is still in the place of one asking a favour. The point the world misses is this. The Son of God humbles Himself to ask sinners to come. The Lord of glory is doing it. They do not know who is asking them. So they never ask Him for the gift they must have to enter the kingdom of God.

The Lord's reply shows what the woman did not know: her own need, the love of God, and the glory of the One she was standing before. Had she known, she would have asked, and He would have given. She had yet to learn that God is a Giver in love, and that such is her need that she can only be a receiver in grace.

By "living water" the Lord indicated the Spirit of God, as is quite clear when we reach chapter 7:39. In the previous chapter God's only Son is His gift to the world. In this chapter the Spirit of God is God's gift to the believer. The Son of God gives that gift, and He was the Speaker seated on the well at Sychar. By the Spirit we have the life within, and by Him the life within springs up to the Source of the life above.

Christ Himself is the giver here, so "the gift of God" cannot be Himself. He makes no claim on her. Her need is a just claim on His gracious heart. Love and need are face to face in this touching scene, and that is always the point of contact.

"You would have asked Him." She had only to speak to that fountain of living water, and the stream would flow into her parched heart. She might speak to Jacob's well forever, and it would do no good; she must toil to draw. You need only speak to this living well, and the waters will flow.

Jesus our Lord alone showed the great, essential truth in all its beauty — "the gift of God." It was new to people in every condition and age. Every soul needs to face it and learn it for itself: God is the Giver, and He will be nothing else to sinful man. Our pride does not like it. Rich or poor, high or low, we want to earn from Him, and we are unwilling to be debtors to nothing but mercy in Christ.

She understands none of the gracious words she had heard; they were not mixed with faith in her heart. So she reasons against them. If the water was to be drawn from Jacob's well, where was the bucket to let down, for the well was deep? … So the mind argues against the Lord, according to the senses or tradition. That is how fatal ignorance of His Person and of the truth is. Circumstances test faith, and unbelief sinks in them. Unbelief gladly seizes on a great name and its gifts — with or without any right to it — in order to slight a greater name, indeed the greatest of all.

The One who had created the water was there, weary and dependent, so that He might drink it from such a woman — a woman who did not know what she was. … He does not say, "If you knew Me," but, "If you knew who it is that says to you, Give Me to drink." He means the One who has come down so low, getting past all the barriers which kept Him from you. If you knew Him, "you would have asked of Him." … There was the answer: "He would have given you living water." The words seem clear enough. But the poor woman cannot get past the circumstances of her daily work. … she goes no further than her daily toil, though she can see plainly that she is dealing with an extraordinary Person. The Lord was leading her on, and she did not yet know where.

What a revelation! There are volumes contained in these four words, "The well is deep." They spoke of a weary existence. She was tired of life. Her own will and her sin had left her heart empty. Despised by all, isolated and abandoned, she came at a time when the well was very empty. And is that not what everyone passing through this world finds? "The well is deep." It gets deeper every year he lives. He has to lengthen the rope he uses to draw the water he longs to satisfy his heart with. That gets harder as time goes on, and the Lord tells us why: "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again."

But what about living water? She understood that to mean running water, not stagnant water. How could that stranger supply it? The well was deep, and He had nothing to draw with. Who was He? Who could He be? … What a story He could have unfolded, had He told her that He had seen Jacob, had wrestled with him, had humbled him, had blessed him! Truly, He was greater than her father Jacob. Jacob dug a well in the ground. He could supply a fountain for the heart.

"You would have asked of Him." She had only to speak to that fountain of living water. Then the stream would flow into her parched heart. She might speak forever to Jacob's well, but it would be in vain; she must labour at the drawing. You need only speak to this living well, and the waters will flow.

She understands none of the gracious words she had heard; they were not mixed with faith in her heart. So she reasons against them. If the water was to be drawn from Jacob's well, where was the bucket to let down, for the well was deep? Did He claim to be greater than Jacob? Or was His well better than the one that long ago supplied Jacob and his household — a well which was now theirs? So the mind argues against the Lord, following the senses or tradition. That is how deadly it is not to know His Person and the truth.

The woman, however, falls back on tradition — "the well of our father Jacob." Tradition is what human nature in this world always falls back on. It was an effort to escape from something too vast and deep and divine for her to take in.

The Samaritans, though a foreign race, had for centuries taken Jewish ground. They had their temple on Mount Gerizim. They had the Jewish scriptures and spoke of "our father Jacob." They took the Jewish hope as their own — the coming of Messiah (John 4:12, 25).

Her wonder rises, and her eyes are fixed on Him. She would learn from Him: who is He? Greater than her father Jacob, it seems. Yet Jacob himself depended on this one well, and so did his whole household.

Who was she addressing? A proud, self-righteous Jew? A Jew certainly — but One like no one she had ever met. She could never find His equal… What a story He could have unfolded, had He told her that He had seen Jacob, had wrestled with him, had humbled him, had blessed him! Truly, He was greater than her father Jacob. Jacob dug a well in the ground. He could supply a fountain for the heart.

But the Lord does not tell her how much greater than Jacob He is. He knows how to lead her to find this out for herself. He then tells her what she already knew — that though she drank of the water of the well, she would thirst again. From there He goes on to tell her what she had never heard. If she drank of the water He freely gave, she would never thirst again. That water is a well inside the one who receives it, springing up into everlasting life.

The water of an earthly spring, however good, like every natural blessing, lasts only for the moment. It quenches thirst, only for the thirst to return soon and again and again. That is the nature of all things seen and temporary. The soul, immortal as it is, needs more to satisfy, and God delights in giving when we look to Him in felt need.

The water of the well, like all earthly joys, of which it is the symbol, can never satisfy. There is no source of lasting satisfaction in earthly things. Money, pleasure, ambition, duties and earthly relationships, if pursued, may provide a moment's distraction or a passing gratification. But they give no lasting satisfaction. "Everyone who does not know Christ has either a disappointed heart, or a heart seeking what will disappoint it" (J.N.D.).

There are volumes contained in these four words, "The well is deep." They spoke of a weary existence. She was tired of life. Her will and her sin had left her heart empty. Despised by all, isolated, and abandoned, she came at a time when the well was very empty. And is this not exactly what every person passing through this world finds? "The well is deep," and it gets deeper every year he lives. He has to lengthen the rope by which he tries to draw the water he would gladly satisfy his heart with. That becomes more difficult as time goes on, and the Lord tells us the reason.

But the Lord does not tell her how much greater than Jacob He is: He knows how to lead her to find this out for herself. He then tells her what she herself knew: though she drank of the water of the well, she would thirst again. From this He goes on to tell her what she had never heard.

On every fountain — broken cisterns, are they not? — of man's digging we may write these words. No matter where man turns for refreshment, he fails to find what can truly quench thirst; pleasure, reputation, power, wealth — whatever the heart of man craves — can never satisfy. As in the book of Ecclesiastes, those who worked hardest to draw water out of these wells had to confess "vanity of vanities." Let us as Christians take note of this and refuse what does not satisfy even the world.

Relief from daily toil was all that she thought of... But He knew her need. He wanted to give her what she really wanted, not what she asked for, so He replied at once, "Go, call your husband, and come here." Conscience must be dealt with before spiritual blessing comes. How wisely, how graciously, He did that!

There are volumes contained in these four words, "The well is deep." They spoke of a weary existence. She was tired of life. Her will and her sin had only left her heart empty. Despised by all, isolated and abandoned, she came at a time when the well was very empty. And is that not what every man finds as he passes through this world? "The well is deep," and it gets deeper every year he lives. He has to keep lengthening the rope as he tries to draw the water he longs to satisfy his heart with. That becomes harder as time goes on, and the Lord tells us why: "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again."

Mark well what the living water is: the new life in the power of the Holy Spirit. It springs up in glad and holy worship to the Father, and it flows out in fullness of blessing to men. The Lord does not give it in return for any surrender on our part, or effort that we can make, or price that we can pay. "I shall give," said the Lord, and "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink."

But now in John 4 we get something wholly new. Jesus gives a divine gift ("I will give"): living water that forms a well within, always springing up into everlasting life, so that there shall be no more thirst. This is the Holy Spirit, whom God gives to live in the one who is born again. He is the power and energy of a life in communion with God, its source and end. Here then is a source of joy apart from all circumstances and independent of them. The joy is the deepest kind, and eternal. The source never fails, though at times the joy may be clouded over here below.

We have everlasting life in Him, and we shall never be separated from Him. The man also has a well of water in himself: "The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water." This is power coming down from God — heaven is brought down into my heart. It is the power of divine life bringing me into fellowship with the Father and the Son. It is nothing short of all that is in God dwelling in me... There is an eternal spring in my own soul. The man drinks it in — he receives it as a thirsty person — and then it becomes in him a well that makes him a partaker of what is in God.

He proposes to make men independent of the world... In the same way He also proposes to make them contributors to the deep need of thirsty hearts within the world. To have a deep well-spring of satisfaction within, springing up into everlasting life — this is the upper spring. It rises to its Source and Giver in intelligent appreciation and worship. And then these same refreshing waters flow out in rivers to others for their blessing too — this is the lower spring.

Heavenly things are outside the range of her thoughts. Thinking only of her daily needs, she gives the Lord's words a material meaning. Like all people, she would gladly have her daily needs met without the daily toil the fall has brought in. Men would be quite content with earthly blessings if only the curse were gone. "The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned." Apart from the Spirit, human intelligence cannot grasp divine things.

She would gladly learn how she might be relieved of her wants and of her labour for this world. As yet not a ray of heavenly light had entered her. Not to thirst, and not to come here to draw, formed the boundary of her desires from the Saviour — not yet known to be a Saviour, still less the Only-begotten Son.

All true intelligence was missing in her. Her weariness and labour absorbed her, and the circle of her thoughts went no further than her water jar — that is, no further than herself, but herself owned by her circumstances. This is human life. People judge revealed things by how they relate to these circumstances.

She is attracted and wondering, and faith in this mysterious Speaker is beginning to wake in her soul. So she asks for this gift, promised to her for the asking. She asks, but in truth she does not know the gift of God, nor who it is that says to her, "Give Me a drink." But divine grace that is at work with her will not leave her like this, nor despise the day of small things — which is still that work begun. Her heart is touched, desire awakened, her soul turning towards God.

She, a woman of Samaria, was still ignorant of what the stranger, a Jew, was offering. Yet she puts aside all prejudice, and says, "Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water." Relief from daily toil was all that she thought of. Yet, wonderful to say, she was now willing to owe a Jew for that. But He knew her need. He wanted to give her what she really needed, not what she asked for, so He at once replied, "Go, call your husband."

It follows that in His reply the Lord entirely passes over the woman's words. It is useless to speak further of things that are too great for a mind too small to take them in. So the Lord takes another way, and the only way by which the darkness of our minds can be cleared. He speaks to the conscience, and wins the heart. Understanding in divine things comes through the conscience, not through the intellect.

His grace clearly had a strong pull on her. She also felt what a burden of toil was tied to sin — and you may be sure no one can sin in this world without toil and sorrow tied to it. But as yet she thought more about her toil than about her sin, so the Lord now begins to deal with her conscience. Man has a conscience. That conscience must be met and reached, and the springs of the soul's history must be touched with a sense of its sin and guilt. Otherwise there will never be a link with God, or true enjoyment of His grace.

Yet grace alone is not enough. Man is fallen, evil, and hostile to God without knowing it rightly, if he knows it at all. He must know his own moral ruin if he is to be saved and blessed. He must therefore know himself as well as God — himself in God's presence, as God sees him... She already felt something of His grace. But truth enters through the conscience, so that the soul may truly know both grace and truth.

He had been pouring out words of grace. It all flowed over her head. It passed over a heart absorbed with the things of the world. He takes the other side — not the gift of God, but the state of man: "Go, call your husband, and come here." The woman answered, "I have no husband." Quite true. She tells the truth to hide the truth — as people often do in this poor world. The conscience is reached now; and that is where the word always enters.

"I have no husband." How naturally we hate the light! Her inward thought was: He does not know me; I must pass myself off on Him as a virtuous woman. But she had to find herself in the presence of One who knew her infinitely better than she knew herself.

"I have no husband," she answers quickly... How overwhelming, yet how gracious! There was no reproach in His mouth. He knew all men. With one word He drew from her the confession of her real state of sin and shame. He set before her such a picture of her life that it bore witness to her conscience.

She had lived through unusual ups and downs in marriage. And now she was living in sin. She did not tell the Lord that. He told her of her past and her present. She admitted it. He had known it all along, yet had offered her the living water. He had come to seek and to save the lost. So He did not drive her away as too unclean a person to talk with. Nor did His shining as the light make her withdraw, like someone who avoids it.

Conscience is the avenue by which God, now that man is a sinner, enters his heart. It is also the door of understanding by which man learns God. A man feels that he is known by God, and so learns to know Him... She does not, however, go away. The fact is that the grace of Christ had triumphed, and it was the deep sense of His grace that now held her to the spot.

Her answer proves that His words had entered her conscience, and that her soul fell under them. There was no fighting back, no excuse, no hiding or escaping from His presence. On the contrary, she stood there a convicted sinner. She owned not only that He spoke truly, but that she saw Him to be "a prophet." By the grace now at work in her, though humbled to the dust, she was content to own what she really was, and to receive from Him as from God's own mouth.

This woman, tired of life, comes to draw water. Isolated in fact, isolated in her heart, she did not come at the time when women draw water. She had followed after pleasure in doing her own will. She had had five husbands, and she had probably been devoted to them. The one she had was not her husband. She was weary of life; her will and her sin had left her heart void; she was isolated and abandoned by the world.

He had been pouring out words of grace. It all flowed over her head. It passed over a heart absorbed with the things of the world. He takes the other side, not the gift of God, but the state of man — "Go, call your husband, and come here." The woman answered him, "I have no husband." Quite true. She tells the truth to hide the truth — as often happens in this poor world. The conscience is reached now: and that is where the word always enters.

Man has a conscience. That conscience must be met and reached. The springs of the soul's history must be touched with a sense of its sin and guilt. Otherwise there will never be a link with God, or the true enjoyment of His grace.

"I have no husband," she answers quickly. Jesus says to her, "You are right in saying, 'I have no husband'; for you have had five husbands, and the one you now have is not your husband. What you have said is true." How overwhelming, yet how gracious! Not a reproach in His mouth! But He who knew all men drew from her, by a word of His, the confession of her actual state of sin and shame. He set before her such a sketch of her life that her conscience had to testify: in her case at least, all things were naked and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom she had to do.

He lets the light in upon her guilty life, and she feels herself in the presence of the Searcher of hearts. But it was the day of grace, and the grace in which He spoke to her enabled her to bear the searching. He told her all that she ever did. It was well for her that it took place in the day of grace. Had it taken place in the day of judgment it would have meant for her an eternity of woe. The great white throne was anticipated. All that could be brought to light was manifested, and there was no condemnation. When it was all out it was all gone.

This stranger did not resent the light shining into the deepest recesses of her heart, for the light that exposed her in all her sin and need also revealed the heart and mind of God, and the glory of the Person of Jesus, and this divine light did not repel her — it attracted her to the Son of God. God was working with her, otherwise she would have fled when exposed, and hated the light that showed how sinful she was.

This is the mountain in Samaria where the blessings on Israel were spoken, while the curses were spoken on mount Ebal. Deuteronomy 11:29; Deuteronomy 27:12; Joshua 8:33; Judges 9:7. History records that after the temple was rebuilt in the time of Ezra, the Samaritans built a temple on this mountain. They had priests and sacrifices there, and this caused great hostility between the Jews and the Samaritans. Hyrcanus destroyed that temple, yet the Samaritans still clung to the mountain as the right place of worship, as the woman of Samaria said to the Lord. John 4:20.

For her part she at once saw and confessed that He was a prophet. In doing so she was in effect pleading guilty to His charge. Yet, as so often happens when the conscience is wounded, she tried to sidetrack the talk into a religious discussion, and so cut out the personal element.

"Sir," she says, "I perceive that You are a prophet." That is her seal set on the truth of His words. Then, with the desire He has awakened in her — to be with God, as even she, it seems, may be, and so to be right with God and to approach Him in His own way — she puts the question of questions for a Samaritan.

"Our fathers worshiped on this mountain." That was true. For centuries the rival temple at Gerizim had been the centre of Samaritan worship. But that fact could add nothing to its claim to be the house of God. Yes, she was following in her fathers' footsteps, worshipping as they had done before her. Still the question remained: had God chosen that place to build His sanctuary, so that acceptable worship could be offered there? One word from Scripture would outweigh all the claims of Gerizim.

With her, as with many today, it was the opinion of men that she thought of. "You say that in Jerusalem is the place where people ought to worship." Notice that she says not a word about God's will in the matter. She shows no thought of any choice Jehovah might have made, or any preference He had shown for one place over another. Yet He had clearly chosen Jerusalem.

How formidable such barriers seemed to both Samaritans and Jews! The place of worship was to them so vital that they forgot the Object of worship!

He makes a distinction between Jewish and Samaritan worship. Jewish worship was, in an important sense, genuine worship of the God of the Bible. It rested on real knowledge of the God who had revealed Himself. Samaritan worship was false worship, resting on ignorance of God... The Lord's answer sweeps away the whole idea of an earthly sanctuary — even at Jerusalem, where in former times Jehovah the God of Israel had commanded it.

The Lord more than meets every desire of the Samaritan woman's heart. For here we have more than a defence of Israel's worship against its Samaritan rival. Here is the first unfolding of Christian worship ever given by God to man, and it replaces not only the Samaritan system but the Jewish one as well.

The Lord replied, "Woman, believe Me" — note His words. He speaks with authority; He knows God as no other could know Him; and He alone can reveal His thoughts. Samaritan worship never had a divine standing. It was a corrupt mixture from the beginning (2 Kings 17:41). Judaism, on the other hand, came from God at the start. But both must stand aside now. The Father stands revealed in the person of the Son of His love; all distance is ended.

So, in the presence of the Son, false systems disappear. And so does what had God's own warrant as a partial revelation: not only the mountain of Samaria, but Jerusalem itself. How does this come about? Yet so it was. How could Jerusalem possibly hold its place in the presence of the rejected Son of God? The city of the great King! If they had received the great King as King, He would have taken His seat in that city, just as the ancient promise said. But this was exactly what they refused.

"The Father!" Surely this must have struck her as new language. Israel was God's son, His firstborn (Ex. 4:22), the children of the LORD their God (Deut. 14:1). The LORD was a Father to Israel, and Ephraim was His firstborn (Jer. 31:9). Yet they had never worshipped Him as the Father. That is because no one can know the Father except those to whom the Son will reveal Him (Matt. 11:27)... Each one, then, who knows the Father owes it to the Son of God; and only those who know Him, it is clear, can worship Him. National worship, as such, at once disappears.

Christian worship comes in between the pausing of Jewish worship in the past and its return in the future. Christians have no place of worship on earth; they enter no earthly temple. The holiest in the sanctuary above is their one and only place of worship (John 4:21, 23, 24; Heb. 10:19-22); their sacrifices are praise to God and practical kindness to men (Heb. 13:15-16).

Any supposed difficulty in reconciling John 4:21 with Jerusalem becoming a centre for all nations is imaginary. It comes from confusing "the hour that now is" with the day that shall be. Our Lord was thinking of the time of His rejection and His coming absence in heaven. The prophet had in view the day of His glory for the earth, which is still future. Distinguish the times, and the objection vanishes. Jerusalem has no place in the Christian system. In the coming day of Jehovah it will have a greater and holier place than it ever had of old.

So the Samaritan worship was all wrong. Their break from the worship carried on at Jerusalem had no authority behind it. Salvation was from the Jews. It had to come through them, and not through those who kept up the Samaritan split — and a split is a fair name for it. Besides, they worshipped what they did not know. What a solemn statement! False worship has another being behind it than God. Demons are there, not God (1 Cor. 10:20).

By saying, "You worship what you do not know," He disowned that worship. By saying, "salvation is from the Jews," He showed her that she was not saved. She stood among the Gentiles — "strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world" (Eph. 2:12). So even while they discussed worship, His words went like a blade to her conscience.

In verse 22 the Lord makes one conclusion impossible for the Samaritan. She might have argued that, since only Christian worship was about to be acceptable to God, and place and race no longer counted, Samaritan worship had been just as good as Jewish. It was not. The Samaritans worshipped what they did not know; the Jews knew what they worshipped, "for salvation," He added, "is from the Jews." They had "the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises. To them belong the patriarchs, and from their race, according to the flesh, is the Christ, who is God over all, blessed forever. Amen." (Rom. 9:4-5.)

The king of Assyria had deported the whole population of the northern kingdom of Israel. The Samaritans were the direct descendants of the people who took their place. They thought it wise to keep the god of that country happy, so they began to copy the worship of the Jews. They had the five books of Moses in a version still called the Samaritan Pentateuch. This was Samaritan worship, and it was a counterfeit worship of the God of Israel.

Compare the Jews with the Samaritans, and the Lord could say nothing else: "We worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews." Worship always matches the revelation God has given. So what could worship be where there was no salvation? Jewish worship was set out in pictures and shadows. Salvation was still a hope, not a relationship and a possession they already held.

"We worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews." Do you hear that, dear friends? We come to know God, and to know the Father, through salvation. Do you not see that unless we know God as a Saviour-God, we do not know Him at all?

There was presumption and ignorance in Samaria, and the Lord does not hide the advantage Israel had in every way. But notice that Jesus only says this when He is outside: He defends the Jews while He stands among their rivals, and while He Himself is rejected. What grace! ... The rejected Lord does not deny what truly had honour, even though it was now working against Him. He does not belittle the line of promise.

"Salvation is from the Jews" (John 4:22), but now it was to be carried to the ends of the earth. So God woke Cornelius, a Gentile, to want the full blessing as it flowed out, and brought him to know forgiveness through the name of the Lord Jesus.

First, our Lord here plainly teaches that from now on there would be no special place of worship on earth. Jerusalem had been the sacred place where the temple of God stood. His people travelled there year by year from all parts of the land. But along with the rejection of Christ, their house, until then the house of God, was left to them desolate. Never since that time has there been a material house of God upon earth. The Church is now the dwelling place of God through the Spirit. Our place of worship is now inside the torn veil, in the immediate presence of God.

We might have pictured the Almighty as needing to be appeased first. Only then would He accept the honour due to Him as Creator, from people who begged for permission to offer it. But now she learned that He is the Father, and that as the Father He is seeking worshippers. Men and women like her, who deserved only everlasting ruin, could worship Him in that relationship. This was new indeed, and full of grace.

To worship "in spirit" is to worship according to the true nature of God. It is worship in the power of the communion the Holy Spirit gives. It stands in contrast to worship made up of forms and ceremonies, and to the religiousness that human nature can produce. To worship "in truth" is to worship God according to the revelation He has been pleased to give of Himself. So it would not be worship "in truth" now to worship Him only as "a great God," "our Maker," and "a great King above all gods," as in Psalm 95. He has chosen to reveal Himself in another light, as "Father" to those who are His.

In this hour it was no longer a question of what man ought to be for God, but of what God is for the sinner. "The Father is seeking such people to worship Him." As for man's worship, it was all worthless. You can build a machine to perform ceremonies if you are clever enough to make one… This is not God demanding worship. As man's duty, worship is quite right. But the Lord is here in grace, and out of the abundance of His heart He says, "The Father is seeking" worshippers. He is not looking at forms of worship; He is seeking vile, broken-down sinners to make them worshippers.

It is worse than useless, "in the hour that now is," to pretend to worship our God and Father unless we are genuine worshippers. … Adam had become conscious of his sin. So when he heard God's voice in the garden, he hurried to hide from Him. So would all uncleansed worshippers, if they heard His voice today. It is not a question of sincerity, but of salvation. Cleansing by the blood of Jesus is absolutely necessary. We cannot worship Him in spirit and in truth until we know Him by faith, as revealed by and in His Son. And we never know Him like that until His word convicts us of what we have done and what we are, as it convicted the Samaritan woman.

Worship is the outgoing of the heart in heaven. Worship for us now is real. It is the greatest privilege the Christian is brought into while on earth. A Christian in this way anticipates the mind and occupation of heaven. He will still be a worshipper when glorified; but he is a worshipper here, for the hour "now is when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth; for the Father seeks such to worship him."

An official title of the Lord Jesus, which came to be used as a name. In John 1:41 and John 4:25 this title is linked with the Messiah of the Old Testament. The Jews and Samaritans were expecting THE MESSIAH, "who is called Christ." ... The Hebrew word is mashiach and means "anointed." The same word is used of the high priest and the king as God's anointed; but the Lord Jesus is emphatically "the Anointed." The title refers to the Lord as Man, anointed with the Holy Spirit.

It is an interesting fact that the Samaritans — the religious rivals of the Jews (John 4) — had a copy of the Pentateuch written in the ancient Phoenician or Hebrew characters. So it was not a translation. They regarded it with unusual reverence, and from it the Samaritan woman learned that Messiah was to come (John 4:25).

"The woman expected a teacher, not a liberator."

Her expectation of full teaching from Him was very probably grounded on the passage in Deuteronomy 18:15-19. When He came, He would settle disputed points and decide every matter of doubt.

The deep meaning of the Lord's words may be entirely beyond what the woman can grasp, but at least they convince her that she cannot do without Christ. As the Prophet, Christ has spoken to her conscience and brought her face to face with her sins. In the presence of her sins she feels that earthly religion, whether in this place or that, will be of no use. Her sins exposed and her religion withered up, she knows that none but the coming Christ can meet her case. Christ as the Prophet has convinced her of her need of Christ as a Saviour. Her language is really the expression of the desire, "Oh that Christ were come!"

This woman did not have the Spirit, and so she could only look to others to teach her about everything. She felt these things reached out into a far fuller and richer system than she could take in. They were out of her reach. She had been brought to this — to feel that all her wisdom was ignorance. But there was One who would tell her all things. She had this one resource: she had heard and knew that Messiah is coming. So she threw her ignorance over onto Him. It was a happy moment for her soul. "I who speak to you am He," said Jesus. That was enough.

"He will tell us all things" was the estimate she had formed of the Messiah. The One who sat there by the well had told her about her present and past life. He had told her too about the falsity of the Samaritan worship. He had told her what He could give. He had told her about God, and about the worshippers the Father was seeking, and He crowned it all by telling her that He was the Christ.

One thing more she needed, and He was waiting to give it: to know Him as already come, the One the Father sent. Without that there is no Christianity. He is everything, as He is in all who are His; but He is also for anyone, as the gospel announces, and the woman here discovers.

John 4:26 and following — The first direct assertion by our Lord that He is "the Christ," and outside Jewish territory.

You never find the Lord saying He is the Christ, except to the woman of Samaria, "I who speak to you am He," and that was to a person who had no right to Christ. He delights to call Himself Son of man. He knew He had come to give His life a ransom for many, and so could not speak of Himself as the Christ. The Gospels are really the history of His rejection. In Samaria it was out of the way to do it, in one sense, because salvation is of the Jews.

In the presence of her sins she feels that earthly religion, whether in this place or that, will be of no use. Her sins exposed and her religion withered up, she knows that none but the coming Christ can meet her case. Christ as the Prophet has convinced her of her need of Christ as a Saviour. Her words are really the expression of the desire, "Oh that Christ were come!"

It was not merely, "I am He," but "I who speak to you am He." In these words He reveals His glory. He stands before her as the Messiah. He could, as she had said, tell all things. And He had now, as she had proved, really told all things — things that were terrible to hear for an awakened conscience. But He reveals it along with the sweet, humble, inviting grace of one who was sitting and talking with her. And this gave her soul the right to find freedom where she might have expected to be overwhelmed.

The One who sat by the well had told her of her past and present life. He had also told her that the Samaritan worship was false. He had told her what He could give. He had told her about God, and about the worshippers the Father was seeking. And to crown it all, He had now told her that He was the Christ.

Her understanding may have been small. She could not grasp what Jesus had told her. Still, His love meets her where she can receive blessing and life, and He replies, "I who speak to you am He." The work was done: she had received the Lord. A poor Samaritan sinner receives the Messiah of Israel, whom the priests and the Pharisees had rejected from among the people.

Faith always meets Christ. He is the great divine discovery to the soul. All must meet Him on the throne one day. But this will be everlasting ruin for those who do not meet Him now. For them it will be judgment… To meet Him now by faith is life and salvation, as the Samaritan proved. Thousands saw and heard Him while on earth. But where there was no faith, there was no life. It was when the woman believed that she received the blessing.

The rule of the Jewish teachers, often quoted (from Dr. John Lightfoot), was that a man should not speak even to his wife in the street... The writer's knowledge of this prejudice is one of the signs that he was himself a Jew.

It was contrary to man's thoughts that God should stoop so low, as to sit talking like this to a vile Samaritan woman. The disciples marvelled that He talked with her in this way. It was not fitting, they thought, for a Rabbi. Very likely! But it was fitting for God in grace.

Their wonder was that He spoke with a woman. What was hers, who knew that every secret of her heart lay open before Him? His grace, however, had fully prepared the way... She was not the one seeking, at any rate: the Father was seeking such people. And it was not a matter of talking with her, but of revealing to her. The disciples had much to learn. If they had known what the conversation was about, they would have wondered far more.

Meanwhile the disciples come, and — naturally — marvel at His talking with the woman. They understood that He was their Master, the Messiah. But the grace of God shown in the flesh was still beyond their thoughts.

The disciples came up and marvelled, for they could not understand the glory that His Sonship gave Him... He was talking with a Samaritan woman; what did this mean? They did not have the Spirit. So they could see nothing of the great harvest that the Spirit — who dwelt in Him without measure — would bring in as the servant of the Father's love.

In John 4 the disciples beautifully sensed His spirit, and stood back, keeping silent. That is communion. The deepest and richest communion is often silent. No one said, "Why are You talking with her?"

The disciples, returning from the city, "marveled that he was talking with a woman". Slow to appreciate the greatness of the grace of God, they marvelled, even as we still marvel, at such a scene. Sadly, as so often, ignorance of grace goes with moral distance from the Lord. So they were afraid to tell Him the thoughts passing through their minds. They did not see that God, in the greatness of His grace, had come down into this world in the Person of the Son to seek worshippers.

The disciples came and marvelled that He talked with the woman, and well they might, for the grace that made Him do it was marvellous. That grace looks for no merit in its objects, but blesses them because of what it is itself... The Shepherd had found His sheep. The Father had found one of the first of those worshippers who would worship Him in spirit and in truth. The Father and the Son rejoiced together.

We saw the poor woman completely absorbed with her water-pot. But the moment her conscience was fully reached, she goes off to testify to the others: if you only get Christ, He will tell you all things. She leaves her water-pot. The Holy Spirit has not recorded it for nothing. The thing that absorbed her is gone. The word and power of Jesus gave her conviction of sin. That same word and power put Christ in the place of the things that had power over her heart: Christ for my righteousness instead of my sins; Christ as the object for my heart instead of my cares.

She left her water-pot and went into the city, filled with the thoughts of Jesus, to speak to the men of One who had told her all things that she ever did. Where the heart is full, circumstances are most forgotten. Notice too that the importance of Jesus in her mind had taken away the pain of the discovery of her state.

She came to the well with an empty pitcher: she left it with a full heart... But what made her a worker in the cause? Was it simply the pleasure of hearing something new? Was it the fascination of listening to a Teacher of commanding ability? Was it self-satisfaction, which enjoys the importance of carrying startling news to other people? Her news was indeed startling; her message was news — good news... But what made her a worker in the cause was that her conscience had first been dealt with by the Lord. Heart work in her came before lip service. And so it must always be in real service for Him.

She leaves her waterpot in a moment, because now she has Christ instead of her cares as well as her sins. She goes away filled with unspeakable joy... Anyway, she left her waterpot and went into the city, where everybody knew her, and where people might have sneered at her, and where women would not be seen walking on the same side of the street with her, and there announced, "Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did."

Now she has found a new Object in life — Christ fills her soul; so she leaves her water pot and returns to the city to become a witness, in the very place of her sin, to the One who has set her free.

He had not formally sent her, yet she went boldly with the invitation. Nor was it merely that she told them to go: "Come, see a Man." She would go along with them. Her heart was in the current of His grace. She counted on the same welcome for others as for herself, however unwarranted that might seem. Such is the power of Divine love even from the very first.

She rightly felt the all-importance of the moment, not for herself only but for others. Her ordinary duty could well wait. It meant nothing to her now to avoid the crowd of women at the well... What were critical tongues now? She had heard the Shepherd's voice... She left her waterpot therefore. To know Him was the great business. Another time was just as good for the waterpot.

The stream of blessing widens. The woman becomes the messenger of Christ, telling out in the city the blessing she has received... She has left her water-pot behind to carry the news of living water. Her story wins her many listeners, who come out of the city to find the One who has lit up this dark heart with His love.

We saw the poor woman completely absorbed with her water-pot. But the moment the Lord reached her conscience, she goes off to tell the others. If you only get Christ, He will tell you all things. She leaves her water-pot. The Holy Spirit has not recorded it for nothing. The thing that absorbed her is gone. The word and power of Jesus gave her conviction of sin. That same word put Christ in the place of the things that had power over her heart: Christ for my righteousness instead of my sins; Christ as the object for my heart instead of my cares.

She is a transformed creature. I do not think any man or woman can be filled with the grace of God — the grace that met me in my sins as it met her in hers — without wanting to tell everyone else about Him. She left her waterpot and went into the city. Everybody there knew her. People might have sneered at her, and women would not walk on the same side of the street with her. There she announced, "Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did." What confidence she had in Him!

But what made her a worker in the cause was that her conscience had first been dealt with by the Lord. Heart work in her came before lip service. And so in real service for Him it must always be. And just because there was conscience work in her, she could not rest content. She had to say to the men of that city, "Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?" What she had done, and what she was, Christ had told her. A living, Divine Person had done a work in her through personal contact. He had spoken to her conscience; He had reached her heart.

And who is this blessed Man? One, she says, "who told me all that I ever did." He told me, but He did not tell anyone else. Then she adds, "Can this be the Christ?" Yes, she was right. This must be the Christ. Who but Christ would tell me all that I ever did, and still love me and draw me to Himself?

Telling them what she had heard, whom she had seen, and whom she had talked with was not enough for her. She wanted others to meet with Him for themselves. They did so. True spiritual instinct prompted her to bring them to Christ, as the thing that would settle their souls in the truth about Him.

He had not formally sent her, yet she went boldly with the invitation. She did not just tell them to go: "Come, see a man." She would go along with them. Her heart was in the current of His grace. Unlikely as it might seem, she counted on the same welcome for others as for herself.

What marks our day is so much official evangelism and so little simple, natural testimony. That testimony is the necessary outflow of full hearts — of people who have been in Christ's company and cannot help saying to those around them what it costs no education and no special gift to say: "Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?" A great and effective preacher was that poor Samaritan woman! What had made her so? What she says herself, the company of Christ. It is this that loosens the tongue and gives it real eloquence.

The disciples are slow to feel the blessedness of the Lord's grace. But on the woman it has an immediate and practical effect. Until now her daily work had absorbed her, and the water pot was only a symbol of it. Now she has found a new Object in life — Christ fills her soul. So she leaves her water pot and returns to the city. There, in the very place of her sin, she becomes a witness to the One who has set her free.

She left Him, but to serve. She came to the well with an empty pitcher; she left it with a full heart. She had gone in her loneliness to the spring with her waterpot. She would return with many empty vessels — human hearts, which needed what she had known: personal contact with the Christ… What made her a worker in the cause was this: the Lord had first dealt with her conscience. Heart work in her came before lip service. And so it must always be in real service for Him.

What marks this day is so much official evangelism, with so little simple natural testimony according to the apostolic order — "I believed, and so I spoke". This is the necessary overflow of full hearts. Those who have been in Christ's company cannot help saying to those around what it takes no education and no special gift to say — "Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?" A great and effective preacher was that poor Samaritan woman! What had made her so? What she says herself: the company of Christ. Christ had been speaking to her. This is what loosens the tongue and gives it real eloquence.

The moral change was immense. A new world opened to her. It outshone the present with new affections and new duties… She felt who needed Him most, and she acted at once. She left her waterpot, went off to the town, and told the men about Jesus. How well she understood Him! He had not formally sent her, yet she went boldly with the invitation. Nor was it merely that she told them to go: "Come, see a Man." She would go along with them. Her heart was in the current of His grace. It counted on the same welcome for others as for herself, however unlikely that might seem.

While sitting by the well the Lord had ministered to one poor woman's soul. But now, lifting up His eyes, He saw — and drew the disciples' attention to — the sight of the people streaming out of the city to meet Him. "Lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest." People could not enjoy God's blessing on the soil in an abundant harvest for four months yet. Still, there was a harvest to reap at once. It came from seed sown long before, which had sprouted and was now ripening fast under the presence of Him who will one day appear to Israel in their land as the "Sun of Righteousness."

This may draw people, just as the testimony of the woman who met the Lord Jesus at the well drew the men of Samaria (John 4:28-30). But only meeting the Lord Jesus Himself truly brought them to God. We see it in their words to the woman: "It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is indeed the Savior of the world" (v. 42).

A title of respect among the Jews, meaning "master, teacher." As far as we know, no one used it before the time of Herod the Great. People used it of the Lord, though the older Authorized Version often translates it "master."

The disciples were occupied with material wants rather than spiritual needs. Yet their words show how much they loved the Lord. We read that they urged Him, "Rabbi, eat." In His reply the Lord did not deny the needs of the body. But He showed that He had a source of food and joy that they knew little or nothing about.

How humbling to find His disciples at such a time occupied with the body and its wants. And this the Lord makes them feel by His answer. They did not yet know such food, disciples though they were. People often misquote it as "His meat and His drink." That is not what it says. Beyond doing His will and finishing His work, there was an inner spring of loving His Father and delighting in Him. But this was His food. He came to do His will. In this He was never wearied, nor should we be even now, whatever the fatigue of the body.

In Mark 4 He had gone through a day of toil, and in the evening He was tired, as any man is after work. Sleep then restores Him for His work in the morning. In John 4 He is weary again, hungry and thirsty as well. He sits on the well at Sychar, waiting until the disciples return from the neighbouring village with food. But when they come back they find Him feasted and rested already. He had had a different refreshment from any they could have brought Him, or that sleep could have provided. He had been happy in the fruit of His labour.

He had asked the woman for a drink from Jacob's well, and we never read that He received it. Now He seemed indifferent to the food the disciples had bought in the city.

His was a hidden joy, which no one yet shared or knew: the joy of doing the Father's will for its own sake, and of finishing His work. He was looking forward to a joy shared with others, in the fruit gathered to eternal life. Only the first of these was His portion now. The joy together He had to wait for; He was ever the lonely One, ever solitary. The deepest loneliness is not about place. It is about people. It comes when no one around you understands, and no one shares your feelings and tastes, your thoughts and hopes.

The woman had learnt her lesson: the Christ had come. The disciples were now to learn theirs — the spirit in which true service is to be done, shown in the example of the Master Himself... So He, the One the Father sent, shows us what true service is: simply and faithfully doing the work God marks out for the servant. How quickly people let visible results sway them! The Lord's food as a Servant was to do the work appointed, whatever the results might be.

The servants of God get hungry and tired like other people. Even the Son of God sat in weariness on the well of Sychar while His disciples went into the town to buy food. But the spiritual rises above the physical.

Besides its common use, this word also has a symbolic sense of consuming or destroying: they "eat up my people as they eat bread" (Ps. 14:4)… It also covers receiving, digesting, and delighting in God's words: "Your words were found, and I ate them, and your words became to me a joy and the delight of my heart" (Jer. 15:16)… And it expresses the satisfaction of doing the work that is before the soul. The Lord said, "I have food to eat that you do not know about." John 4:32.

In Mark 4 He had gone through a day of toil, and in the evening He was tired, as nature will be after labour. Sleep then comes to Him, to restore Him to His work when the morning came. In John 4 He is weary again, hungry and thirsty too. He sits on the well at Sychar, waiting for the disciples to bring food from the village. But when they come back they find Him already feasted and rested. He had had a different refreshment from any which they could have brought Him, or sleep have provided Him. He had been happy in the fruit of His labour… A poor, careless sinner had been made happy by Him.

See the Lord refreshing His spirit when the pride of man rejected Him! Not with the water of the well, but with love that finds its joy in hearts full of misery. He drank from the one refreshing well-spring that has visited this world! He had food to eat His disciples knew nothing of.

In His soul there was a deep need that went far beyond the need of the body. He had been meeting that need of His soul, while the disciples looked after bits of bread for the body. He hungered and thirsted until He had fully done the work His Father sent Him to do.

How humbling to find His disciples at such a time occupied with the body and its wants. And this the Lord makes them feel by His answer. They did not yet know such food, disciples though they were. People often quote it as "His meat and His drink," but that is not what He said. Beyond doing His will and completing His work, there was an inner spring of loving and delighting in His Father. But this was His food. He came to do His will. In this He was never wearied, nor should we be even now, whatever the fatigue of the body.

Labourers are too often influenced by whether results appear or not… Was He indifferent to results? Far from it, as Isaiah 49:4 and Matthew 11:20-24 declare. But He was the perfect Servant, perfect in everything else. His food was to do the will of Him who sent Him and to finish His work. True, in doing it He must have had joy we cannot measure. He saw one poor sinner's heart open under His teaching, like a flower opening in the warmth of the sun… But His food came from elsewhere.

"But He said to them, I have food to eat which you do not know." How humbling to find His disciples at such a time occupied with the body and its wants. And this the Lord makes them feel by His answer. They did not yet know such food, disciples though they were.

He seemed to take no interest in the food the disciples had bought in the city. Yet He did have refreshment and food, as He talked with the woman at the well. "Master, eat," His disciples asked Him... His answer, "I have food to eat that you do not know of," told of something they had not brought, which fed Him. They could not grasp His meaning, for their thoughts, like the woman's, were tied to earthly things. So He kindly explained it.

Augustine remarks here that we should not be surprised that the woman did not understand the water Christ spoke of to her. After all, His own disciples misunderstood what He said about food.

The disciples came up and marvelled. They could not understand the glory His Sonship set Him in. He could have sympathy with none but the Father here; the thing was out of their reach. He was talking with a Samaritan woman; what was the meaning of this? They did not have the Spirit, and could see nothing of how large the harvest would be. The Spirit dwelt in Him without measure, and would bring that harvest in as the minister of the Father's love.

The Lord Himself found it so. This He did in Samaria. How free and happy was He there, whether at the well of Jacob or in the village of Sychar. He was there, as at home, for two days; for the ground had been freshly ploughed up and visited. Sinners were learning salvation, and their faith spread a feast for Him. He had food to eat there — food that even the hard work of those who were always with Him could not supply.

In reply to their questioning, the Lord shows us how blessed the path was that He walked. He says, "My food is to do the will of Him that sent Me, and to finish His work." Here was One who met all the sorrows of earth and the trials of the way. Through it all, one object held Him up: doing the will of the Father. His way was perfect. Seeing that, we may well ask our own hearts what motives keep us going day by day. If we are honest with ourselves, will we not have to admit that at best our motives are very mixed?

The servants of God get hungry and tired as well as other men. Even the Son of God sat in weariness on the well of Sychar while His disciples went into the town to buy food. But the spiritual rises above the physical. The immediate needs of the body are forgotten when powerful spiritual interests are at work.

The woman had learnt her lesson — that the Christ had come; the disciples were to learn theirs — the spirit in which true service should be performed, as illustrated by the example of the Master Himself. His answer, "I have food to eat that you do not know about," told of something they had not brought, that gave Him support.

Where did it lie? Not merely in outward acts of service. What a character these words give His whole path! His food, the very sustenance of His life, was in carrying out the Father's will.

How humbling to find His disciples at such a time occupied with the body and its wants. And this the Lord makes them feel by His answer. They did not yet know such food, disciples though they were. People often quote it as "His meat and His drink." That is not what He said. Beyond doing His will and completing His work, there was an inner spring of loving and delighting in His Father. But this was His food.

As Son, He had the divine right to exercise His own will. But having come into Manhood, He took the place that belongs to man — subjection to His Father's will. He found His sustenance and pleasure in carrying out the will of His Father. He had just been making that will known in relation to worship. What joy there was for the Son in bringing the Father's grace to sinners! And what joy for the Father in seeing His Son make His will known and fulfil it!

Satan tempted Him with "the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them." It failed completely to influence His thoughts or His movements. The Pharisees showed envy and scorn. The Sadducees mocked Him with their materialism. His brothers did not believe Him. Crowds gave Him passing praise and wanted to make Him a king. None of it turned Him aside from His steadfast path of unswerving devotion to the will of God.

Jesus had come to work in this world, as He said in John 4. Now He says, "I have finished the work which You gave me to do." His words in chapter 4 show that His work included securing a company of worshippers for the Father, who would worship Him in spirit and in truth. For this the cross was necessary. Every barrier that kept His own from full blessing had to go.

Was He indifferent to results? Far from it. But perfect Servant, as perfect in everything else, His food was to do the will of Him who sent Him, and to finish His work. True, in doing it He must have had joy — a joy we cannot measure. He saw one poor sinner's heart opened up by His teaching, like a flower opening under the warmth of the sun. He knew that the blessing given to her would bear fruit for many a soul in that city. But His food lay elsewhere.

It is not enough to act even with a right motive, if we are acting simply on our own initiative and doing what seems right in our own eyes. A man employed in a workshop may be a good workman, but a poor servant. Service, then, is not just work. It is not even good work, or Christian activity of the most scriptural sort. It is such activity under the direction of the Lord.

If we are honest with ourselves, must we not admit that our motives are very mixed at best? And yet, how much simpler our lives would be if we realised, in our little measure, that the Father has a will about us and a plan for us. Then our one desire would be to do the Father's will and finish the work He has given us to do.

While He sat by the well the Lord had ministered to one poor woman's soul. But now it seems He lifted up His eyes and saw the people streaming out of the city to meet Him. He drew the disciples' attention to the sight. God's blessing on the soil to produce an abundant harvest was still four months away. Yet there was a harvest to reap at once. It came from seed sown long before, which had sprouted and was now ripening fast in the presence of Him who will one day appear to Israel in their land as the "Sun of Righteousness."

First, the Lord would engage us with the spiritual harvest, and not the natural. If the disciples were to reap the natural harvest they would have to wait four months. The spiritual need is always present.

He then showed them, as already white for harvest, fields their faith had never surveyed. They knew of no fields except those once divided among the tribes. In their view God's farming had to stay inside that sacred fence. Samaria, they judged, was now outside it, nothing but an unclean place. But there was a secret with God. It was the Son of God, the Saviour of sinners, who had now gone out with seed. His toil had prepared a harvest for the reapers on the defiled plains of Samaria... The harvest in Judea was plenteous, but in Samaria it was ripe for the reapers.

Whatever the times and seasons of the natural harvest, the fields spiritually were ripe for the reaper. Man, the world, deserved judgment. But the very state of sin that calls for judgment is the state God uses for His call of grace. The gospel comes on the ground of man's total ruin, so it levels all distinctions. Jew, Samaritan, Gentile — what is any of them now but a sinner?

They may speak of harvest being four months away. No doubt the great harvest of the coming kingdom can only come in God's time. But for those who have eyes to see, the fields were already white for harvest. Thirsty souls were ready for the water of the word of God, and only needed someone to find them... Yet none of them seemed ready to respond, even after the Spirit of God had come at Pentecost; and Philip... with a fervent gospel heart, goes to Samaria first to reap a bountiful harvest (Acts 8).

Fresh from Judea, where they had enjoyed no reaping, they found at Sychar a crop ready for the sickle. The Samaritans had been taught to expect the Messiah, so once they knew of Him they were willing to receive Him. To have tried to reap in Judea would have been labour with little return. To have started sowing at Sychar would have shown a lack of discernment about the condition of souls in that city... The work in one place is no measure of what the work in another should be. And a labourer greatly blessed in one place cannot assume the next field will be ready for his sickle too.

Our Lord said, "Lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest." The opportunities are not far off. They are within reach of our eyes. Never was there a day when it was more urgent that opportunities should be grasped.

It is remarkable that the Lord speaks here about reaping rather than sowing. Sowing, of course, goes on, and has its place elsewhere, as in Matthew 13. In earlier times it was sowing rather than reaping. Now, in this day of grace, reaping is what marks the time — fruit not only of God's past dealings, but of His coming and mighty work.

The prophets had worked (the woman was expecting the Christ), and so had John the Baptist. The disciples were only reaping, but the fields were white for harvest. In the very worst times, even when judgment is close at hand, God has His good part. Faith sees it and takes comfort in it.

The wages: the first instalment comes in this world, through fellowship in service with the great Worker Himself. The servants will receive the full reward in glory.

For their work, the disciples would receive their wages. They would value that reward highly. John showed the same in his letter to the elect lady and her children, when he wrote, "Watch yourselves, so that you may not lose what we have worked for, but may win a full reward" (2 John 8). This reward they will have from Christ in the day of His glory in having part with Him in His kingdom. These "wages" are not for the twelve alone, but for all who serve our Lord Jesus in faithfulness here below.

The fruit reaped for eternal life is people. The labours of the Lord's servants bring them to enjoy the blessings of eternal life. Here the fruit is gathered in. Soon those won for Christ's glory will be on display in that day, even as Paul wrote, "For what is our hope or joy or crown of boasting before our Lord Jesus at his coming? Is it not you? For you are our glory and joy" (1 Thess. 2:19-20).

The fruit of this service is lasting. For his natural labour, man only secures the things that perish in the using. In this spiritual service the labourer "gathers fruit to eternal life."

How ready men are to judge a worker's usefulness by the apparent results of his work! How ready they are, at harvest time, to treat the reapers as the one and only class of labourers who have worked the soil! Not so the Lord. He knows who have broken up the ground and sown the seed in the sunless days of autumn and winter, or in the windy days of spring. And when the harvest is reaped and gathered into the barn, He will remember them. He will acknowledge the share they have had in the work carried on for Him on earth.

Then all will know in power that He was the beginner, sustainer, and end of all true service, uniting in Himself the two characters of sower and reaper. This rejoicing together of sowers and reapers must include Himself. "Rejoice together" — what would that mean apart from Him? Your work may be sowing only, and that is not as pleasant as reaping. But if it is His will, His Spirit in us will say, "Yes, Father, for such was your gracious will." Soon it will be eternal joy together in the rest above.

If we work for the present we may reap our own harvest, but it will be a poor one. If we sow for the glory that is to come, if we sow by faith, others will reap it — but we shall rejoice together.

But the one who reaps will gain by it, in fact gathering fruit in view of the life that is eternal, in contrast to mere natural gain (v. 36). Then when the reaping is done, both sower and reaper have cause to rejoice together. For the sowing is done generally long before the reaping, and in regard to the word of God planted in souls, it is very commonly done by a different worker than the reaper (v. 37).

"One sows and another reaps." The man who does the first part of the work seems to be wasting his time and throwing valuable seeds away on the ground. They sink in, and the black soil covers them. They fall into the ground and die. Often the sower dies too in neglect and poverty; and he and his work are forgotten.

So we would judge wrongly if we thought the reaper had done all the work, just because we see him carrying in the sheaves. We must not forget the sad efforts of his dead fellow worker, which at the time seemed fruitless and hopeless. One man ends his course in complete failure; another wins success. But if each works as God calls him, the work is one, and one God is over it all.

We may note that the reapers gathered fruit for eternal life, and also received their wages. The prophets had laboured — the woman was expecting the Christ — and John the Baptist had laboured too. The disciples were only reaping, but the fields were white for harvest. Even in the very worst times, when judgment is close at hand, God has His own good part, and faith sees it and takes comfort from it.

Who kept that expectation alive in the hearts of the Samaritans, by teaching them what the Scriptures said? We cannot now tell. The disciples in their day probably knew almost as little about it as we do. But whoever the Lord meant, He wants us to understand this: He overlooks neither their names nor their work.

I take the words "I sent" as marking their character: as apostles, this is your work; do not be proud, or wise in your own eyes. I have sent you to reap what you did no work for. Others — for our Lord did not take the honour to Himself alone — other men have laboured, and you have entered into their labours. But our Lord's joy was in the harvest, in what would be brought in. Their joy in it was softened by remembering who had sown the seed.

It is striking that the Lord speaks here about reaping rather than sowing. Sowing, of course, still goes on, and has its place elsewhere, as in Matthew 13. In earlier times the work was sowing more than reaping. Now, in this day of grace, reaping is what marks the work — fruit not only of God's past dealings, but of His coming and mighty work.

We can take no glory to ourselves. "Other men laboured, and you are entered into their labours" (John 4:38) can most truly be said of us, though I fear we have but little availed ourselves of the rich field of blessing laid open to us through their faithful service.

Are we called to sow? Then let us work on without losing heart, even if we never see the fruit of our labour. Are we allowed to reap? Then let us work hard, remembering the responsibility that rests on us. But let us always keep in mind that in a coming day others may share the joy of that harvest which the Lord in His goodness has allowed us to reap.

To sow is to spread faithfully whatever testimony God has entrusted to His servants for that day. To reap is to gather in souls by ministry as the fruit of the seed sown. But who are to reap, and when? This the Lord decides, and here He allots to the disciples their portion of work in the field. "I sent you." Their commission came from Him. He never makes a mistake, and He did not send them into the field before the crop was ready.

"I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor." In earlier times the Lord's servants had borne their testimony, and the disciples were entering into the fruit of their work. The prophets had testified of the Messiah. That is how this poor Samaritan woman had heard about Him, and it had stirred her heart. "When he comes," she says, "he will tell us all things."

The Lord had borne the toil of the sower. Tired and worn out, He had talked with the woman. But now He would share the joy of the harvest with His disciples.

"I sent you" I take to be characteristic. As apostles, this is your office. Do not be proud, or wise in your own eyes. I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored — and our Lord did not take the honour to Himself alone — and you have entered into their labor. The one who is lowest, and works for fruit he cannot see, is highest. He is more truly doing the will of the One who sent him, in simple faith. Success gives immediate support, even to the weak.

It is remarkable that the Lord speaks about reaping now rather than sowing. Sowing, of course, goes on, and has its place elsewhere, as in Matthew 13. In the past there was more sowing than reaping. Now, in this day of grace, reaping marks the time — fruit not only of God's past dealings, but of His own coming and mighty work... These differences remain. Even so, the apostles are marked by reaping rather than by sowing, and so, of course, are other labourers. Everyone knows how clearly this proved true at Pentecost and afterwards.

No preacher of the gospel has ever gone out to serve the Lord, had success in his work, and been able to say it was all the result of his own prayers and his own service. No servant worth his salt would ever say such a thing. He would admit that every success he had in the Lord's service came because others were praying and others had worked in some way. He and they were working together to secure this fruit for God. We are not all called to be sowers, and we are not all called to be reapers. But we can all do some small service, and we can all plant some seed. Every word spoken for the Lord is seed sown. Every kind act shown to a believer or an unbeliever is seed sown.

Many prophets and righteous men had wanted to see what the disciples saw, but never lived to see their day. Will they lose their joy? No. They will see the day of Christ's glory, and the crop that grew from the seed they sowed in patience and under hardship — sowing known perhaps only to themselves and to God.

Here the circumstances are completely different. For the moment the Lord is outside the circle of Judaism, among the despised Samaritans. Why? Because of the hostility in the Jewish heart... There He met the woman and brought blessing to her soul, and that brought blessing to many others too. If some reject His grace, their unbelief does not dry the channel up; it redirects it, and others receive it.

So despised Samaria stretches out her hands to God, and Galilee, the land of darkness and of the shadow of death, receives Him when Jerusalem rejects Him. The light springs up in the place of darkness. It may be rejected elsewhere, but it is never hidden — except in judgment.

Here again she testifies that His word searched her conscience: "He told me all that I ever did." When a person does not shrink from that kind of examination, it is a good guarantee that the work is Divine. Otherwise grace is easily misused as a cover for sin, or as a light way of dealing with a sinner, instead of judging everything in God's light.

A new object has been revealed to her soul — Christ — and it takes up her whole mind. It takes her up so completely that, without thinking, she becomes a preacher: she proclaims the Lord out of a full heart and with perfect simplicity. He had told her everything she had ever done. At that moment she is not thinking about what it was. Jesus had told it to her, and the thought of Jesus takes away the bitterness of the sin. The sense of His goodness removes the deceit in the heart that tries to hide its sin. In short, her heart is completely filled with Christ Himself.

In His grace God uses, not an angel, but a sinner born again, to carry the truth to others, as we see here in Samaria... It was a true work of God, done in the ordinary way of grace: the word dealing with the conscience. There was no miracle, and no persuasive words of human wisdom either, but a demonstration of the Spirit, so that their faith would stand in God's power.

She told what she knew; she testified of that which she had found, but in connection with a Person. "He told me," she declared, so pointing others to that One who, in grace, had met with her at the well. But how effectively she did her work! The fields were white to harvest... To stand up and preach was not her work... Yet she worked rightly and well, and that without intruding into another's sphere.

The power of Jesus' testimony in the conscience is the great doorway into the knowledge of Jesus... Many believed because of this testimony, even at second hand. This is what opened the way for Him, and on that ground they begged Him to stay with them... Her word was the doorway; but once He was let in, everything fits the full glory of the One the heart is now taught to receive.

She could not be satisfied with only telling them what she had heard, or who she had seen and talked with. She wanted others to meet Him for themselves... A true spiritual instinct led her to bring them to Christ, as the one thing that would settle their souls in the truth about Him.

The Samaritans begged the Son of God to stay with them, and there He did stay two days (v. 40). What confidence on their part! What grace on His! Others, more favoured, who looked down on them, begged Him with one voice to leave them (Luke 8:37). Who else is ever recorded as making such a request for His presence? But those who asked received a blessing both now and forever, as faith in Him always does.

Jews had no dealings with the Samaritans. But this was the time of gift and grace. The message went out to those counted worthless too. Jesus did not go to offer Himself to them, though He went when they invited Him. As He said, "Enter no town of the Samaritans." Yet the glory that was in Him, and what He was conscious of in the character and heart of God, went beyond His present ministry.

In Samaria He sat at the well with one of the defiled nation, and afterwards stayed for two days among many of them. Conscience was stirred there, and so He is among them without reserve. There is no weight on His spirit. He was in His right place. That place gave Him the opportunity to act from Himself, and to let people learn what He was and why He had come into this world. He found a home in Samaria, because He found stirred consciences there — contrite, humbled hearts.

So without a miracle Samaria acknowledged the Lord. One person first knew Him as a prophet. In the end all who believed there knew Him as Saviour of the world. The fullest confession of His grace came where you would expect the least understanding. But faith gives a new wisdom. It is so different from the old that the wise must become fools if they would be wise according to God.

She had learnt from Him who He was. They had learnt from His two days' stay with them what He was, as meeting their need on the broad ground of grace. Here every question about whether Gerizim was better than Moriah fell away. Everything they had argued about in the ritual of Moses must have appeared in a new light. The Saviour of the world had come, had sat with them, had taught them.

We should consider well here that it was not His miracles that drew them to Him, but His word. First came His words to the woman, which she testified to, then His own direct word to them. No doubt these two days picture the present age of grace to sinners of every class, Jews and Gentiles.

It is cheering to see how God honoured the simple testimony of the woman. Many out of that town believed on Him because of her word... But faith, whenever it is real, rises from the instrument to Him who graciously chooses to use it, and God loves to put honour upon the word of Jesus Himself.

The Samaritans asked the Son of God to stay with them, and there He did stay two days (v. 40). What confidence on their part! What grace on His! Others more favoured, who despised them, asked Him with one voice to leave them (Luke 8:37). Where else do we read of anyone asking for His presence like this? But those who asked received a blessing both now and forever, as faith in Him always does.

We should think carefully here. They were not drawn to Him by His miracles, but by His word. First came His words to the woman, which she then told them about. Then came His own direct word to them. No doubt His two days with them are a picture of the present age of grace to sinners of every class, Jews and Gentiles. "And many more believed because of His word" (v. 41). The fruit of His word becomes abundant indeed.

At the feast of the Passover... many believed in His name. But it was because of His miraculous signs. The various people mentioned in Chapter 1 are a clear contrast. They held to the Lord Jesus because of what they saw in Him. The moral beauty of His own person, His truth and His grace drew their hearts. Or others later at Samaria... He had done no miracles there, but His word had penetrated their hearts: they believed Him, not simply believing certain things about Him.

She had learned for herself the value of meeting Christ in person. She wanted the same for the people of her town, so she urged them to come and see the man who had told her everything she ever did. She could not rest satisfied with simply telling them what she had heard, or whom she had seen. She wanted others to meet Him for themselves. They came, though at first they believed in Him because of what the woman said. She would not let them settle for less than meeting Him, and they did not settle for less.

This was the simple and blessed fact for these Samaritans. It beautifully foreshadows the true and unchangeable ground of faith for all who would hear and believe the gospel once the Lord was no longer here on earth in person. Anyone and anything may stop a soul in its tracks with revealed truth: a man, a woman, a child; a sermon, a conversation, a book or a leaflet. But whatever the means, the soul believes God. Without believing God there is no true faith, and no divine authority and grace over heart and conscience.

Faith, whenever it is real, rises from the instrument to Him who is pleased to use it, and God loves to put honour upon the word of Jesus Himself.

She could not be content to tell them only what she had heard, whom she had seen, and whom she had talked with. She wanted others to meet Him for themselves. They did so. Short of that she would not have them rest; short of that they did not stop. A true spiritual instinct made her bring them to Christ. That was what would settle their souls in the truth about Him.

Nothing could have been more welcome to the woman of Samaria than the words of the many who believed because of His own word. They told her plainly that they no longer believed because of what she said, for they had heard Him themselves. Nature might take that as a snub, but grace in her would give the saying a loud Amen.

Here the words "the Christ" should be omitted. Her testimony was that He was the Christ; theirs, that He was the Saviour of the world. She had learnt from His lips who He was. They learnt from His two days' stay among them what He was, as meeting their need on the broad ground of divine grace. Their faith about Him now rested on a firm basis, and they held this title firmly in their hearts — "the Saviour of the world." He could be their Saviour, for He was the Saviour of the world.

Notice too that the Samaritans call Jesus "the Saviour." At bottom they knew very well that their Gerizim was nothing. But grace opened their hearts to a wider idea of the Saviour's work. No Jew would have said, "the Saviour of the world."

So the Samaritans believed without a miracle, and entered into the blessing all the more deeply. They take their own place: not a word of rivalry with the Jew. They were sinners: Jesus is the Saviour. They were of the world. But "this is indeed the Saviour of the world." God saves us, not because we deserve it, but because He, Jesus, deserves it; and we believe on Him.

Have you, my friend, heard Him for yourself? And do you know indeed that He is the Christ, the Saviour of the world, and therefore your Saviour? One thing is certain: if you know beyond doubt that you have heard the Lord's own word, then you have heard Him.