A woman comes out of Samaria to draw water. Jesus says to her, Give me to drink
A tired traveller sits by a well in Samaria and speaks first to a woman who has come alone to draw water. His four-word request raises the question of who really needs help here — and who is really giving.
The Creator sat there depending on His own creation for a drink:
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.
His weariness was not only in His body:
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 had the power to meet His own thirst another way:
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.
His request was aimed at something deeper than thirst:
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.
She came out to the well alone. One writer traces that solitude to her sin:
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.
Her answer was surprise, not water. One writer sets it beside Rebekah, a woman asked for a drink at a well long before:
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.
Everything turns on knowing who is asking.
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.
His poverty was what made her rich:
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 — He sat just as He was — hungry, thirsty, tired in body, feeling rejection in His spirit. Yet His love never tired.
- Asking — He worked miracles for others but never for Himself; He chose to owe a fallen woman a cup of water.
- Winning — The One who made the heart knows the way into it; asking her for a favour was how He opened her own need to her.
- Crossing — Grace crossed the border between Jew and Samaritan, into a place where religious argument had killed plain courtesy.
- Giving — The Beggar at the well is the Giver of living water; the world's ruin is not knowing who it is that asks.
(for his disciples had gone away into the city that they might buy provisions).
John pauses the conversation at the well to explain why Jesus was alone when the woman arrived. That everyday errand raises real questions about the One who needed food, and about why He wanted to be alone.
One writer sees the Lord's own choice behind it. Sending the disciples away served two purposes at once:
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.
Someone had to buy bread because the Lord needed it. That need shows what kind of body He took:
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.
The scene has Him both wanting a drink and wanting a meal at the same moment:
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.
Jews avoided dealings with Samaritans, yet the disciples went into a Samaritan town to buy food. One writer explains the old rule, and what had changed:
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.
Their absence left the Lord free to deal with one person. One writer sets this meeting beside another one — with Nicodemus, who came to Him at night:
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.
Commentators differ on the hour. Another writer takes the errand itself as the clue:
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.
So the woman meets Jesus alone:
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 left Him hungry. They came back to find Him satisfied already:
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."
- Errand. The disciples go to buy food. John records this small detail because it explains why Jesus is alone.
- Hunger. The need for that food was real. Hunger, thirst and weariness prove how human the body He took was, sin apart.
- Barrier. Jews kept clear of Samaritans. Yet the disciples buy food in a Samaritan town, while their Master waits there as Saviour of sinners.
- Alone. Their absence leaves room for a private meeting. No apostle, church or ceremony stands between a sinner and Christ.
- Satisfied. They came back with bread and found Him already fed — His food was to do the will of the One who sent Him, and to finish His work.
The Samaritan woman therefore says to him, How dost thou, being a Jew, ask to drink of me who am a Samaritan woman? for Jews have no intercourse with Samaritans.
Jesus has asked a Samaritan woman for a drink, and her reply is not an answer but a question: how can a Jew ask anything of her? Her surprise rests on centuries of history and a wall between two peoples.
Commentators trace the Samaritans back to the day Assyria emptied the land and refilled it:
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.
God, not human pride, drew the line. He told Israel not to mix with the other nations; the nation then added contempt of its own:
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 were right to keep apart; that was their calling. But Jesus had left that ground and stood somewhere else:
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.
How did she know He was a Jew?
"A Jew." She knew He was one by His dress.
But that was as far as she saw:
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.
Commentators differ on who speaks the last line of the verse:
"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.
She answers the dispute instead of the request. One writer sets her beside Rebekah, who long before drew water for a stranger at a well:
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.
Writers see this meeting as an early sign that the wall would not stand for ever:
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).
- Wall built. The Samaritans began as a resettled, mixed people who "feared the LORD, and served their own gods".
- Wall God-given. God separated Israel from the nations. The contempt added on top was human pride abusing His grace.
- Wall crossed. Christ left Judea, the place of righteousness, and met her in Samaria in grace only.
- Wall misread. She saw a tired Jew and answered with the old argument. She was speaking to the Creator of the well.
- Wall removed. This meeting points ahead: the barrier that made such contact unlawful would come down.
Jesus answered and said to her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that says to thee, Give me to drink, thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water.
Jesus sits by a well and asks a local woman for a drink. Then He tells her that if she knew who was asking, she would be the one asking Him. His words name two things she does not know: what God gives, and who is speaking to her.
The first half of the verse turns on a word for God's free bounty. One writer sets it against everything people assume about how God deals with them:
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.
The second half points away from the gift to the Person offering it. One writer draws out the cost of not knowing:
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.
That "if" points to what she did not know:
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.
The water He offers does not come from that well. One writer links it to a later chapter in John:
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.
Another writer works from the giver's side:
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.
Everything hangs on one small verb:
"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.
Why, then, does anyone not ask? One writer traces it to pride:
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.
- Giver. God meets sinners not as a receiver but as the Giver. Any other place would deny His nature and leave no room for love.
- Given. He gives living water. One writer reads it as the Spirit, whom the Son gives to the believer — life within that springs up to its Source above.
- Unknown. The woman did not know three things: her own need, God's love, and the glory of the Person beside her.
- Unasked. People do not know who is asking them, so they never ask Him. Pride would rather earn than owe everything to mercy.
- Answered. Asking is all it takes. Jacob's well demands hard work; this well answers a single word.
The woman says to him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep whence then hast thou the living water?
A woman comes to draw water and hears an offer of living water instead. She weighs the offer by what she can see — no bucket, a deep well — and misses the One making it.
She tests His words against what she can see. One writer follows her reasoning and names what lies under it:
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.
Her mind stays on the errand that brought her out. One writer names what she was missing — not a bucket, but the identity of the Man asking her for a drink:
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.
Her complaint about the depth describes more than a hole in the ground. One writer hears her whole life in those four words, and finds every person in them:
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."
She asks where the living water comes from. The answer is not a better bucket but a greater Person:
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.
Her objection assumes that water takes work. Nobody draws this living water up; you ask for it:
"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.
- Deep well. Four words describe a whole life. The world's well gets deeper every year, and the rope never reaches what satisfies.
- No bucket. She measures Christ by the equipment He carries. A mind that judges by the senses argues against His words, because it does not know His Person.
- Daily toil. Christ points her to who is speaking with her. She cannot get past the errand that brought her out, though she senses this Man is extraordinary.
- Greater giver. Her question has an answer standing in front of her. Jacob dug a well in the ground; this Man supplies a fountain for the heart.
- Only ask. Jacob's well makes you work the rope. You need only speak to the living well, and the water flows.
Art thou greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well, and drank of it himself, and his sons, and his cattle?
A woman came to draw water, and Jesus offered her something she could not see. She answered with the one thing she could see: an old well and the ancestor who left it to her. Her question — is this stranger greater than Jacob? — was meant as a defence. It is also the question the whole scene answers.
She has just heard an offer of living water, and instead of asking for it she cross-examines it. One writer traces how her mind moves from the bucket, to the depth of the well, to the name of Jacob:
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.
Naming Jacob is more than unbelief. It is a retreat to safer ground. The offer was too large to hold, so she reached for something she had inherited:
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 word "our" carries a whole history. Her claim on Jacob was not personal; it was national, and centuries old:
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).
So her question is more than a question. She is not just comparing two men. She is putting her ancestry between herself and the offer.
She adds that Jacob drank from the well, and his sons, and his livestock. She means it as proof of the well's worth. It is also proof of Jacob's limits:
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.
The great ancestor was as thirsty as she was.
The irony is that the Man she measures against Jacob had met Jacob. One writer draws out the story He could have told her, and then sets the two gifts side by side:
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.
He never says "yes." He does something better — He takes the well she is defending and shows her what it cannot do:
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.
- Greater questioned. She asks if He outranks Jacob while standing in front of the answer. The mind argues against the Lord from the senses and from tradition.
- Greater hidden. "Our father Jacob" is a refuge, an effort to escape what is too vast and deep and divine to take in.
- Greater claimed. Samaria had taken Jewish ground for centuries. It claimed the temple on Gerizim, the scriptures, the Messiah hope, and the family name.
- Greater exposed. Her own evidence sinks her case — Jacob and his whole household depended on that one well.
- Greater proved. Jacob dug a well in the ground. He supplies a fountain for the heart. Instead of arguing, He lets her taste the difference.
Jesus answered and said to her, Every one who drinks of this water shall thirst again;
The woman asked Jesus about drawing water. He turns her question into a verdict on every source of refreshment she has ever tried. His answer sorts all drinking into two kinds: the kind you must come back to, and the kind you never have to come back to.
The point is not that the well water was bad. It was good water. The problem lies in what any created supply can and cannot do.
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.
Jesus points to a real well, but He means more than water. Writers read this water as a picture of everything people reach for to fill the heart.
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.).
The woman had just said the well was deep. One writer reads that complaint as a picture of ordinary life.
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.
Notice how He teaches. She has just asked whether He is greater than Jacob. He does not answer by claiming a title. He starts with something she already knew.
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.
One writer turns this word on Christians themselves.
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.
She asked for the water, thinking only of saving herself the daily walk. What He said next shows what He was after.
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!
- Thirst again — the well water was good, but it could not last. Everything seen and temporary quenches thirst only for the thirst to return.
- Thirst again everywhere — money, pleasure, ambition, power, duties, relationships. They all fall under the same verdict.
- Thirst again, deeper — every year he must lengthen the rope. Drawing on this world gets harder as life goes on, not easier.
- Thirst again, and Christians too — write these words over every well of man's digging. Refuse what does not satisfy even the world.
- Thirst no more — He starts with the thirst she already knew. Then He names the gift she had never heard of, and touches her conscience, the place He must deal with before blessing comes.
but whosoever drinks of the water which I shall give him shall never thirst for ever, but the water which I shall give him shall become in him a fountain of water, springing up into eternal life.
Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at Jacob's well. She came for ordinary water, and He offers her a gift that ends thirst for good and becomes a spring inside her.
The woman had told Jesus the well was deep. One writer hears in her words the story of every life spent drawing from the world:
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."
The verse turns on the Lord's own promise: I will give. Nothing in the sentence asks for a contribution from the one who drinks.
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."
One writer names the water and says why it is new:
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.
The striking word in the verse is in him. What Christ gives is not a supply kept elsewhere and fetched as needed.
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.
The water does not sit still. One writer sets out what it does in a man, and then through him for others:
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.
- Thirst — every well of this world must be drunk from again; the rope only gets longer with the years.
- Gift — Jesus says, "I will give." No surrender, effort, or price buys it; thirst is all He asks.
- Indwelling — writers identify the living water as the Holy Spirit, whom God gives to live in the one born again.
- Inward — Christ puts the spring in him: an eternal spring in the soul, not a store outside that he must go and fetch.
- Upward, then outward — the well rises to its Giver in worship. The same waters then flow out in rivers to other thirsty hearts.
The woman says to him, Sir, give me this water, that I may not thirst nor come here to draw.
She heard the offer of living water, and she asked for it. But what she asked for was shaped by the well, the walk, and the water jar. Was this faith? And if her asking was so small, why does Jesus answer by telling her to go and call her husband?
She takes what He said about water and hears it as water. One writer traces her mistake to where her thinking lived:
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.
Christ had offered a spring rising up to eternal life. What she wanted back was a shorter errand. Notice how one commentator measures the exact distance her hopes travelled:
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.
Her water jar is not just her problem. It stands for the small circle any of us reason inside:
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 does not know who is speaking to her. She asks anyway — and one writer sees the start of something real in it:
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.
Something has already broken down in her that the opening of the conversation showed was strong — she began by pointing out that Jews have no dealings with Samaritans. Now she asks a Jew for a favour, and Christ answers a deeper request than the one she made:
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."
The reply in verse 16 looks like a change of subject. Commentators read it as the only route left open:
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.
There is also a link between the toil she wants to escape and the life she has been living:
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.
- She asked. She did not know the gift of God, or who was speaking to her. She asked anyway, and grace treats that as the work begun.
- She asked small. Relief from her daily toil was all she wanted from Him.
- We all ask small. Her thoughts went no further than her water jar — no further than herself, held in by her circumstances. We all weigh God's words by how they touch daily life.
- He answers deeper. He gave her what she really needed, not what she asked for, and He did not despise the day of small things.
- Through the conscience. He passes over her words and speaks about her husband. She thought more of her toil than of her sin. Understanding in divine things comes by the conscience, not the intellect.
Jesus says to her, Go, call thy husband, and come here.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
The woman answered and said, I have not a husband. Jesus says to her, Thou hast well said, I have not a husband;
The woman had asked for water that would end her daily walk to the well. Instead, the Lord told her to go and call her husband. Her four-word answer is true as far as it goes. He agrees with it, and then finishes it for her.
So far the conversation had been all gift. One writer explains why that was not the whole of what she needed:
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.
Her statement was accurate. It was also a screen:
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.
Another writer puts her unspoken thought into words:
"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.
He does not contradict her. He agrees, and then fills in the rest. Notice what is missing from His reply:
"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.
The exposure told Him nothing new. He had already offered her living water, knowing her whole story:
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.
Reaching the conscience opens the way in. It is how a person comes to know God, and how she came to stay rather than run:
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 shows how His words landed. Notice what she did not do:
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.
- Grace first. He offered her living water before He said a word about her husbands. He already knew it all.
- Truth next. Grace alone could not finish the work. She had to see herself as God sees her, and truth enters through the conscience.
- Her dodge. She told the truth to hide the truth. She hoped to pass herself off as a good woman to a stranger who already knew everything.
- His method. He agreed with her words and then completed them. No reproach — just her own life set before her.
- The result. Her conscience was reached, and she did not run. Grace held her at the well, and she owned Him as a prophet.
for thou hast had five husbands, and he whom now thou hast is not thy husband this thou hast spoken truly.
The Lord had just told her to call her husband, and she replied that she had none. His answer agrees with her words, then fills in all she left out — five husbands, and a man now who is not her husband.
The short list of husbands sums up a whole life. One writer looks at her coming to the well alone, at the wrong hour, and sees where following her own will had left her.
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.
Her "I have no husband" was accurate. It also shut a door. Notice how the Lord changes ground from what He gives to what she is.
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.
Why press on her past at all? One writer explains why sin must be felt before grace can be enjoyed.
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.
The wonder is not only that He knew, but how He spoke. There is no scolding — only her own words taken up and finished.
"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.
The Lord opened her whole record at that well. One writer shows why the timing of that exposure mattered.
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.
Being found out usually makes people run. She stayed, and then went to tell her town about the Man who told her everything.
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.
- Empty. Five husbands and a sixth man left her heart void and her life isolated.
- Evasion. She told the truth to hide the truth; her accurate answer screened the real story.
- Conscience. He turned from the gift to her state, because that is where His word enters and a link with God begins.
- Grace. He laid her whole life bare, yet not one reproach came from His mouth.
- Timing. That well anticipated the great white throne. It all came out in the day of grace, and when it was all out it was all gone.
The woman says to him, Sir, I see that thou art a prophet.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Our fathers worshipped in this mountain, and ye say that in Jerusalem is the place where one must worship.
The Lord has just laid her life bare, and the woman at the well answers by raising the oldest dispute between her people and His: which hill had God chosen? Behind her words stand centuries of rival altars, and her question draws out the first unfolding of Christian worship.
"This mountain" was Gerizim, in sight of the well where they were talking. Its place in Israel's history, and the temple later built on it, explain her confidence:
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.
Commentators differ on her motive. One reads the shift from her private life to public religion as a move away from the pressure she had just felt:
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.
Another reads it as the real cry of a soul that now wants to be right with God:
"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.
Her first argument is inherited practice. But long custom cannot prove that God chose the place:
"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.
Her second argument is what the Jews say. Notice what is missing from both halves of her sentence:
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.
The argument over place had a fierce grip on both peoples:
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!
The Lord does not treat the rival claims as a matter of taste. One rested on real knowledge of God; the other did not. Yet He sets both aside:
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.
She asked about geography. The answer reached far past the two hills:
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.
- Place. Gerizim was the Samaritan centre for centuries. Its rivalry with Jerusalem bred lasting hostility.
- Proof. "Our fathers" appeals to age, and "you say" appeals to opinion; neither asks what God Himself chose.
- Person. Fixed on which hill was right, she overlooked the One she should worship — the very Person standing in front of her.
- Parity denied. Jerusalem's worship was real and God-given. Samaria's was not. Yet the Lord's reply sets aside the earthly sanctuary altogether.
- Portion. Her question about a place drew out the first unfolding of Christian worship. It went beyond both systems she named.
Jesus says to her, Woman, believe me, [the] hour is coming when ye shall neither in this mountain nor in Jerusalem worship the Father.
A woman raises the oldest religious argument of her region: which mountain is the right one. Jesus does not pick a side. He tells her an hour is coming when people will worship the Father in neither place. That raises two questions. Why would God set aside the city He Himself had chosen? And what takes its place?
She asked about place. He answers with His own authority. His verdict clears away both rival systems — Samaritan worship and the temple at Jerusalem.
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.
Setting aside a corrupt mixture is one thing. Setting aside the sanctuary God Himself authorised is another. One writer ties it to the rejection of the Son.
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 key word here is not "mountain" or "Jerusalem" but "the Father." Used of worship, that title was new. And it comes with a condition.
"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.
If the holy place is gone, worship is not left homeless. Commentators point to a sanctuary above. They read the present age as a gap between two eras of temple worship.
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).
Another writer draws out what this means in practice. To treat a building on earth as a sanctuary "is so far to abandon Christian ground, and to go back to the Jews' religion." It also "throws souls at a distance from God." That leaves them feeling they need a priesthood of men to stand between themselves and Him (H. H. Snell).
Some readers stumble here. The prophets describe a future day when all nations come to Jerusalem. One writer answers that the two statements belong to different times.
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.
One writer also notes the wording. Here Jesus says the hour "is coming." He does not yet add "and now is" — that comes two verses later (J. N. Darby).
- Place — Her question was where. His answer removed the where altogether. Samaritan worship never had God's authority; Jerusalem's worship once did. Both are now set aside.
- Person — "Believe Me" is the credential. The One who knows God as no other can is the only One able to announce the change.
- Father — The new name is the heart of the verse. Israel had never worshipped God as Father. Only those to whom the Son reveals Him can worship Him that way.
- Everywhere — With no sanctuary on earth, the worshipper's one place is the sanctuary above. Sacred buildings and go-between priests push people back to a distance that is already ended.
- Day — The coming hour marks the time of Christ's rejection and absence. It is not the end of Jerusalem's story: a future day of glory for that city still stands.
Ye worship ye know not what; we worship what we know, for salvation is of the Jews.
The woman had raised the old argument between Samaritans and Jews about the right place to worship. Jesus moved the question from place to knowledge, and gave one reason for the difference: salvation comes from the Jews.
Jesus tells the woman that her people worship what they do not know. One writer says such worship is not merely empty. Something else stands behind it.
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).
The two halves of the verse do two different things to her. One disowns her religion; the other exposes her own condition.
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.
Jesus says "we," putting Himself with the Jews. Their advantage was not something they invented. God gave it to them.
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.)
Samaritan worship copied the real thing. It rested on part of the Bible, and it began for a reason that had nothing to do with faith.
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.
The little word "for" carries the argument. Knowing God depends on salvation, so where there is no salvation there is no true worship.
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.
That reason is not just about history. It decides how anyone comes to know God.
"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?
Where Jesus said this matters as much as what He said. He was among people who resented the Jews, and He still defended Israel's place.
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 started from one nation, but it was never meant to stop there.
"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.
- Source. Salvation has a channel — it came from the Jews, along the line of promise, and the Christ came from their race.
- Knowledge. The Jews knew whom they worshipped because salvation was among them. Worship always matches the revelation God gives.
- Ignorance. Samaritan worship copied the real thing without the revelation. False worship has another being behind it than God.
- Grace. Jesus defended Israel's place while He stood among their rivals, and while Israel was rejecting Him.
- Reach. What began with one nation went out to the ends of the earth, and reached Gentiles like Cornelius.
But [the] hour is coming and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and truth; for also the Father seeks such as his worshippers.
At a well, a Samaritan woman has just asked Jesus where people should worship — on her mountain, or in Jerusalem. His answer sets that question aside and announces an hour when the Father Himself goes looking for worshippers.
Her question assumed that worship needs a sacred address. The Lord's reply removes it:
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.
The change is not only in the place but in the One worshipped. Jesus names Him the Father. One writer shows how startling that was for a woman with her past:
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.
Each of the two words has a definite sense. Together they rule out empty ritual, and any thought of God that stops short of how He has revealed Himself:
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.
The verse ends with a reason, and it reverses the usual direction of religion:
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.
So can anyone start worshipping at will? The word true stands in the way, and one writer ties it back to the woman herself:
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.
Jesus does not push this hour into the future. He says it has already arrived:
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."
- Seeking. The Father is not waiting to be found. He is out looking — and He looks for broken-down sinners, not for people with impressive forms.
- Finding. What He finds, He first makes. The woman was convicted, then cleansed, then a worshipper. Nobody worships "in truth" without coming to know God through His Son.
- Freeing. Because He seeks worshippers, no mountain and no building owns worship. Since Christ's rejection, there has been no material house of God on earth. Believers now worship in God's own presence.
- Filling. "In spirit" means worship that matches God's own nature and rises by the Holy Spirit. "In truth" means worship that matches how He has revealed Himself — as Father, not only as Maker.
- Now. The hour is not pending. Worship is heaven's occupation, started early. It is the highest privilege open to a Christian on earth.
God [is] a spirit; and they who worship him must worship [him] in spirit and truth.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
The woman says to him, I know that Messias is coming, who is called Christ; when *he* comes he will tell us all things.
The talk at the well has moved from a drink of water to worship. The woman answers with her last hope — a coming Messiah who will explain everything — and she says it to His face.
She uses two names side by side: Messiah and Christ. They are the same title in two languages, and the title has a precise meaning.
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.
The Samaritans were rivals of the Jews, yet she speaks of a coming Messiah. One writer traces her hope to the Scriptures they kept — the first five books of the Bible.
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).
What she expected from Him was instruction rather than rescue. One writer, noting how the phrase about Christ has been read as the writer's own explanation, records this observation on her hope:
"The woman expected a teacher, not a liberator."
Another writer points to where her hope of full teaching likely came from:
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.
She does not say this at the start. She says it after Christ has uncovered her life and left her worship with nothing to stand on.
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!"
Her sentence admits as much as it believes. She hands the whole problem over to Someone else.
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.
She spoke of an explanation still to come. It had already happened to her, point by point, in that talk.
"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.
The Lord had reached her conscience. Her heart still had one thing to receive.
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.
- Anointed. "Messiah" and "Christ" are one title in two languages. It means anointed, and Jews and Samaritans alike were waiting for Him.
- Expected. Her hope came from the first five books of the Bible, which the Samaritans kept — most likely from Deuteronomy 18, where the coming One settles every disputed point.
- Emptied. She says it only after Christ uncovers her past and leaves her religion no shelter. She has nothing left but the Christ who is coming.
- Entrusted. She admitted that all her wisdom was ignorance. She threw that ignorance onto Him, and that was the turning point.
- Encountered. The One she waited for had already explained her, her worship, God, and Himself. She needed only to know Him as present — and He gave that in one sentence.
Jesus says to her, I who speak to thee am [he].
The woman at the well has just named her one hope: a coming Messiah who will settle every question. The tired traveller who asked her for a drink answers that He is the One. Why did Jesus make that claim here, and why to her?
Commentators note how rare this moment is.
John 4:26 and following — The first direct assertion by our Lord that He is "the Christ," and outside Jewish territory.
The title was rare on His own lips. One writer links that silence to the death He came to die.
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.
Before He tells her who He is, He has told her what she is. That exposure is what makes her long for the One standing there.
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!"
The exact wording carries the weight. He does not point to a Messiah somewhere else.
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.
She had said the Messiah would tell them all things. One writer counts up what He had already told her.
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 grasp of His words was thin. What settled the matter was not her understanding but His answer.
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.
The well is a pattern, not an exception. A warning comes with it for anyone who puts off the meeting.
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.
- Exposed — He reached her conscience first. Her sins uncovered and her religion emptied out, she needed the very Christ she named.
- Revealed — to that need He gives the one open claim of His ministry, outside Jewish territory, to a woman with no right to it.
- Near — the force is in "who speak to you": the Messiah is not a distant figure but the One already talking with her in grace.
- Received — her understanding was small, but she received Him: a Samaritan sinner welcomed the Messiah the leaders had rejected.
- Now — everyone meets Him in the end. Meeting Him by faith today is the difference between blessing and judgment.