The Wells We Keep Returning To
On Day 2 of VBS, our kids heard the story of the Samaritan woman at the well and how Jesus offered her living water. But for those of us who’ve heard that story a hundred times, it still speaks. Many of us have learned to manage our own thirst—chasing comfort, control, or approval instead of letting ourselves be truly known and loved by God. What if we reflect on what it means to stop performing, start receiving, and let Jesus meet us in the places we’d rather keep hidden?
“But whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst.” —John 4:14
We’ve all learned to manage our thirst.
Not just the kind that water fixes, but the quieter thirsts—approval, control, comfort, distraction. We sip from them all day long. Scroll a little. Buy something. Fix something. Prove something. And if we’re honest, we do it without thinking. We’ve trained ourselves to drink from whatever well is within reach.
The Samaritan woman in John 4 knew all about that kind of thirst. She didn’t just show up at a well—she lived near one, maybe even built her whole world around managing her needs on her own terms.
And then Jesus shows up and says, “I have something different.”
That’s where we landed on Day 2 of VBS. Our kids heard the story of Jesus meeting the woman at the well—alone, ashamed, misunderstood—and offering her living water. The kind that satisfies not just for a moment, but for good.
They may not know the pressure of a mortgage or inbox or marriage that feels off—but they do know what it feels like to be left out, to carry something they don’t know how to name, to wonder if they really matter. And into that space, we spoke the truth: God loves me.
It wasn’t just a story about water. It was about how Jesus approaches people others avoid. How He meets us in places we’ve been hiding, not to shame us, but to bring us back to life.
But here’s the deeper question for us as adults: what wells have we grown used to drinking from?
Because the older we get, the easier it is to build rhythms around survival. To patch over the cracks. To perform well enough that nobody asks what’s actually going on.
Jesus wasn’t fooled by the woman’s story. And He’s not fooled by ours either. He doesn’t avoid the broken pieces. He walks right up to them.
At Christ Methodist, we talk about equipping people to carry the gospel into everyday spaces. But here’s the truth: you can’t give living water unless you’ve actually tasted it yourself. That means letting Jesus confront the parts of us we’d rather keep contained—our hidden shame, our spiritual dryness, our slow drift from intimacy with God.
The good news? He already knows. And He comes anyway.
We saw this reflected in our kids’ group activity—“Water in the Well.” Teams worked together to protect their supply and keep it from spilling out. Preschoolers had their own version with parachutes and cups. But no matter the age, the message was the same: the water God gives isn’t fragile, but it does need to be received and guarded with care.
And so does love.
So here’s a way to take this home: Ask your child what they remember about the woman at the well. Ask what it means that Jesus loved her even though He knew her whole story. Then ask yourself: when was the last time I really let myself be known by God?
Because the point of this week isn’t just for kids to feel special. It’s for all of us to be reminded that Jesus doesn’t deal in surface love. He sees the whole picture. And still, He comes.
This is where discipleship begins. Not in perfection. In presence. In sitting still long enough to hear the voice of the One who says: “Come to Me. I have what you’re actually looking for.”
God loves you. Not the polished version. You. The real one.
And if you’re ready to go deeper in that kind of love, consider jumping into a Sunday group or joining us for worship this weekend. You don’t have to come cleaned up. You just have to come thirsty.