La Samaritana

I was alone like always
With the jug in my hand
And shame in my soul

The women wouldn’t talk to me anymore
The men didn’t respect me
Five broken stories weighed on my back
And a tired heart was begging for rest

But that day, at noon
When no one should be there
He was waiting for me

A Jew, a stranger, a man
But not just any man
He looked at me and I didn’t look down
Because in his gaze there was no judgment
There was compassion

Then He spoke to me
Hey, can you give me a drink?

I stopped
How can you, being a Jew, talk to me?
To me, a Samaritan woman
A marked woman, a forgotten woman

And He replied
If you knew who was talking to you
You would ask him
And I would give you living water

Living water
Water that doesn’t dry up
That doesn’t run out
Water that doesn’t leave you thirsty
After you’ve tasted it

And I said to Him
Sir, give me that water

Then his voice changed
It wasn’t harsh, it was real
Go and call your husband

I don’t have a husband, I said
My voice trembled like my soul

And He said to me
You’ve had five
And the one you have now isn’t yours either
I know
And still, I’m here

He knew all my mistakes
My choices, my story
And still, He offered me his water
His truth, his love

I talked to Him about the Messiah
I said: I know he’s coming
And He said to me
I am the one speaking to you

Right there, in the middle of my routine
In the place of my shame
The Savior appeared to me

I dropped the jug
I let go of the past
I let go of the fear
And I ran to the town that hid me
To the town that pointed fingers at me
And I shouted

Come see a man
Who told me everything I’ve done
And still loved me

Because when Jesus speaks to you
You’re not the same anymore
Because when He waits for you
In your worst moment
It’s because He’s going to write with you
The best chapter
Of your story