The Well of Sychar
Table of Contents
The Well of Sychar
(John 4)
It has been frequently observed that our blessed Lord is presented, in the Gospel of John, in the very highest aspect in which we can contemplate Him, namely, as the Son from heaven—the eternal Word—the Creator of all things—the Revealer of the Father. In Matthew, He is presented as a Jew—Son of David, Son of Abraham—legal heir to the throne of David, and the land of Israel. In Mark, we have Him as the Servant, in the various fields of ministry, pursuing, with a holy diligence which nothing could distract, his course of service. In Luke, He is seen as Son of Man, having His genealogical line traced, without a break, up to Adam.
But, the moment we open the sublime Gospel of John, we are introduced to Him who was from the beginning—before all worlds—by whom were all things—the Eternal Word—who was in the bosom of the Father from all eternity—who was made flesh and tabernacled amongst us. And yet, there is not one of the Gospels in which this glorious Person is so frequently presented alone with the sinner, as in this very Gospel of John. Surely there is divine purpose in this. We see Him alone with Nicodemus, alone with the Samaritan, alone with the poor convicted adulteress, and alone with many others. Indeed, we may say that, the Son of God alone with the sinner, is one special feature of the Gospel of John.
Now, we purpose, in dependence upon divine teaching, to dwell, for a little, upon one of those touching scenes in which Jesus and a poor sinner are seen in company, "at Sychar's lonely well." The woman of Samaria stands in very striking contrast with Nicodemus, in chapter iii. The latter had standing, reputation, and character; the former had nothing of the kind. He was at the top of the wheel; she, at the very bottom. You could hardly get anything higher than "a man of the Pharisees, a ruler of the Jews a master in Israel;" and, on the other hand, you could hardly get anything lower than a Samaritan adulteress. And yet, as to the real, vital, fundamental, and eternal question of standing in the sight of God, of fitness for His holy presence, of title to heaven, they were both on a level.
This may seem, to some of our readers, a strong and a strange statement. " What! do you mean to say that the learned, pious, and, doubtless, amiable Nicodemus was no better, in the sight of God, than that wretched woman of Sychar?" Not a whit, as to standing in His presence. " There is no difference, for all have sinned and come short of the glory of God." And, hence, Christ's first word to Nicodemus is, "Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." This brief utterance completely swept the foundation from under the feet of this master in Israel. Nothing less than a new nature could avail for a man of the Pharisees, and nothing more was needed for the adulteress of Sychar. It is clear that crime could not enter heaven; but neither could Pharisaism. A criminal and a Pharisee can, blessed be God, enter heaven, because both can have eternal life through believing in the Son of God.
It is of all importance for the reader to seize this grand foundation truth of Christianity. He could not possibly have a more graphic or striking illustration of it than is presented in the history of Nicodemus and the woman of Sychar. Had our blessed Lord spoken to the woman about becoming good, and to Nicodemus about becoming better, then indeed, there would be some foundation for the notion that there are some samples of fallen humanity better, and nearer to God, than others, and, moreover, that it is quite possible so to improve nature—to improve self - as to make it fit, at length, for the presence of God. But when we find Him at once sweeping away the whole legal platform on which the Jewish ruler stood, by declaring the absolute necessity of a new birth, then we are forced to the conclusion that human nature is incurable and incorrigible.
In the case of the poor woman of Sychar, there was no legal platform to be swept away. Her moral character and religious standing had all been swamped long since. Not so Nicodemus. He evidently felt he had some capital, something to count upon, something to glory in. He was a person of some standing, and he therefore needed to learn that it was all worthless—perfectly worthless, in the sight of God; and in no words could that need have been more pointedly or forcibly expressed, than in Christ's brief utterance, " You must be born again." Do what you will with nature; educate, cultivate, sublimate it as much as you please; raise it to the loftiest pinnacle of the temple of science and philosophy; call to your aid all the appliances of the legal system, and all the resources of religiousness; make vows and resolutions of moral reform; add ceremony to ceremony; wear yourself out with a round of religious duties; betake yourself to vigils, fastings, prayers, alms, and the entire range of "dead works " and, after all, yonder adulteress of Sychar is as near the kingdom as you, seeing that you as well as she "must be born again." Neither you nor she has one jot or tittle to present to God, either in the way of title to the kingdom, or of capacity to enjoy it. It is, and must be, all of grace, from beginning to end. We must be born again.
But what is this new birth? Is it nature made better? By no means. What then? It is eternal life possessed through simple faith in the Son of God. " As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up; that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." This is the new birth, and this is the way to get it. God loved—God gave—we believe and have. Nothing can be simpler. It is not nature made better—fallen humanity raised, educated, and improved; but an entirely new life possessed—even eternal life through faith in Christ, to be possessed by the poor woman of Sychar, just as fully, and in the self-same way, as by the ruler of the Jews. " There is no difference, for all have sinned." And "There is no difference, for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon him.' Looked at from a human point of view, there is no difference, for all have sinned; and looked at from a divine point there is no difference, for God is rich unto all. The roaster in Israel and the woman of Sychar arc put on a level, and God's rich grace flows down, through the blood of Christ, to both the one and the other, to bestow upon each eternal life as the free gift of God.
Now, this eternal life is something entirely new. Adam, in innocence, had not eternal life. He had an immortal soul; but the immortality of the soul, and eternal life, are two distinct things. The very feeblest lamb in all the blood-bought flock of Christ is better off by far, than Adam, in the day of his innocence. He has gotten indestructible, victorious, eternal life in Christ. Adam knew nothing of this amid the fruits and flowers of Eden. It was when all was in ruins around him—himself a ruin in the midst of ruins—that the first faint glimmer of light fell upon his soul, in the early promise made, not to him, but to the Second Adam, the Lord from heaven, "The seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head." In the faith of this, Adam escaped from himself and the ruin around him, took refuge in Christ, the Head of the new race, the new creation,, and called his wife's name " The mother of all living." No life apart from the seed of the woman.
And be it further noted, that when the Jew was put under law, it was not, by any means, with a view to his getting eternal life, even if he had kept it. The language of the law was this, "The man that doeth these things shall live in them." It never spoke of eternal life, at all. A man was to have life so long as he kept the commandments. It was temporary and conditional life; and, therefore, the woman of Sychar would have had no business going to Sinai. She, having offended in one point of the law, was guilty of all, and, as a consequence, was under the curse. She had no title to life, either temporary or eternal. Nicodemus might fancy he had a claim; but her case was hopeless, so far as she was concerned. Moses had no helping hand for her, at all events.
But, then, this brazen serpent, what could it mean? For whom was it intended? Why for any poor bitten creature, just because he was bitten. The wound was the title. The title to what? To look at the serpent. And what then? He that locked lived. Yes; " look and live." Precious truth! True, for Nicodemus—true, for the woman of Sychar—true, for every bitten son and daughter of Adam. There is no limit, no restriction, no fence drawn round the precious grace of God. The Son of man has been lifted up, that whosoever looks to Him, in simple faith, might have what Adam in innocence never possessed; and what the law of Moses never proposed, even "everlasting life." Mark, it does net say, an immortal soul, for that Adam had before as well as after his fall—that all have, believers and unbelievers. But " He that believeth on the Son of God, hath everlasting life." This is what the Lord Christ saith, and saith it, too, with a double " verily " Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment; (κρίσιν) but is passed from death unto life." John 5:24.
There is no middle ground. It is either " death" or " life." Men may talk as they will, about the power, the capacity, the dignity of nature, the education of the human race, the progress of man, development, and such like. The few weighty words, just quoted, settle the whole question. It is either life in Christ, or death out of Christ. All man's progress, until he gets to Christ, is, and must be, progress in death. It matters not, who he is, or what he is, Pharisee, scribe, or publican, learned or ignorant, pious or profane, moral Or immoral, savage or civilized, if he be not in Christ, he is in death; but if he be in Christ, he " hath everlasting life; " and then all progress will resolve itself into a growth in grace, growth in knowledge, growth in moral and practical conformity to the image of Christ, the Second Man, the risen Lord, the Head of the New Creation.
Header, pause here, we entreat you, and ponder this solemn subject. There is a great deal more involved in it than many imagine. This new life in Christ cuts up by the roots all man's pretensions. It sweeps away, as so much worthless rubbish, all man's religiousness, all his pietism, all his legal righteousness. It shows him that until he gets Christ he has gotten absolutely nothing, but that, having Him, he has all. Yes, it is even thus, Nothing in self—all in Christ. It may be a so-called good-self, like the ruler of the Jews, or a rightly called bad-self, like the woman of Sychar; it is all the same. Both are dead—spiritually dead. There was no more spiritual life in Nicodemus, when he came to Jesus by night, than there was in the Samaritan, when Jesus came to her by day. True, there was a vast difference morally and socially. It is unnecessary to assert this. No sensible person needs to be told that morality is better than vice, that it is better to be sober than drunk, better to be an honest man than a thief.
All this is plain. But it is equally plain that honesty, sobriety, and morality are not everlasting life. Nor are they the way to get it, either. These things, in their genuine character, will be the fruit—the sure and necessary fruit—of the new life; hut they are neither the new life itself nor its procuring cause. " He that hath the Son hath life. He that hath not the Son of God hath not life." This is conclusive. There is no middle ground between "Hath " and " Hath not." There is no room for progress between these two points. The writer and reader are, at this moment, under one or other of these two divisions. Solemn thought! We deeply feel its solemnity and grave importance in this day of man's proud pretensions, when even Christianity itself is taken up as an agency for the advancement of fallen and corrupt humanity—as part of a system of education for the improvement of the race. It really comes to this, according to the teaching of some of our modern doctors. Paganism, Judaism, and Christianity, are only so many influences brought to bear upon man to raise him in the scale and make him out to be somebody. Fatal delusion! Soul-destroying error! May the Holy Ghost open the eyes of many to see it, and enable them to escape from it! May the Gospel of Christ go forth with fresh power, and stem the rising tide of rationalism and infidelity, in this dark and evil day!
We shall, with the Lord's blessing, pay another visit to the well of Sychar; indeed, as yet we have hardly reached it, but the train of thought we have been pursuing, will enable us to appreciate more fully, the deep and holy lessons to be learned there.
The Well of Sychar: Part 1
There is a peculiar charm about the narratives in the gospels, arising from the fact that they present the Lord Jesus Himself, immediately to the heart. They do not give us so many abstract truths or dry doctrines, or occupy us with the establishment of certain principles. They unfold a Person, and that Person is none other than God manifest in the flesh. We see Him in intercourse with sinners of every grade in society, and every shade of character—high and low, rich and poor, religious and irreligious, scribes and Pharisees, publicans and harlots—all sorts. We behold Him in company with the vilest sinners, as at the well of Sychar, and we find Him dealing with such in perfect grace. We discern in Him a holiness which is above and beyond all sin, and yet grace which can reach down to the deepest depths of the sinner's need. In a word, God has come down to earth, and we can see Him in the face of Jesus Christ.
Now, this is a stupendous fact. God has revealed Himself. He can be known—yes, known with all the certainty which His own revelation of Himself is capable of imparting. " The darkness is past and the true light now shineth." There is no need, now, to pour forth Job's pathetic accents, " Oh! that I knew where I might find him." We can repair to the well of Sychar, and there behold the Creator of the universe, in the person of that dust-covered, weary, thirsty stranger who seeks to make Himself a debtor to a Samaritan adulteress for a drink of water. Amazing fact! Profound, unfathomable mystery! God over all, blessed forever, speaking through human lips, asks an adulteress for a drink!
Where, we may lawfully ask, amid the wide fields of creation, could we find aught like this? Nowhere. We may look there, and behold the marvelous exhibition of wisdom, power and goodness; but we do not and cannot see God, in the likeness of sinful flesh, in the form of a weary, worn, dust-covered, thirsty man, sitting by a well, and asking a poor sinful woman for a drink of water. We may turn to the opening pages of the Pentateuch, and behold God, as the Creator, coming forth from His eternal dwelling place, and calling worlds into existence, by the word of His mouth. But we see no weariness here, no thirst, no asking for a drink. We can trace the footsteps of the Creator, as He passes, in His majestic career, from field to field of His glorious work; but the glories that shine upon us "at Sychar's lonely well" are brighter far than aught that meets our view in the opening pages of the book of Genesis. "Let there be light," was glorious; but, "Give me to drink," exceeds in glory. In the former, we discern a majesty that overawes, and a brightness that dazzles us; but in the latter, we see grace that wins our confidence, and tenderness that melts the heart.
Again, we may ask, where, throughout the entire Mosaic economy, can we trace anything like the scene at Sychar's well? Could the Lawgiver have asked an adulteress for a drink of water? Impossible. Had the woman of Sychar stood before the fiery mount, her lot would have been cursing and stoning, without mercy, Such an one had little to expect from " the ministration of death and condemnation." And yet, strange to say, there are some who tell us that, " If you take away the law from the gospel you leave nothing behind worthy the name of a gospel! "
Say, reader, what do you think of such a statement as this? How does it look when viewed in the light that shines upon us at the well of Sychar? What a strange statement! Who would have thought that in this day wherein an open Bible is so freely and so widely circulated, such a statement should drop from the lips or the pen of a so-called Christian teacher? Take away " the ministration of death and condemnation" from " the ministration of life and righteousness," (2 Corinthians iii.) and you leave nothing behind worthy the name of a gospel! Take away that which curses, and must curse, the sinner, from that which pardons, saves, and blesses him, and you leave nothing behind worthy the name of a gospel! Take away that which " worketh wrath" from that which unfolds the fullness of divine love in the Person and work of our Lord Jesus Christ, and you leave nothing behind worthy the name of a gospel!
But we shall not lose our time in dwelling upon the gross ignorance and absurdity of such a statement. We shall do far better to return and linger in the vicinity of the well of Sychar, and hearken to the marvelous conversation between God manifest in the flesh, and a poor degraded woman of Samaria.
Our blessed Lord, " knowing that the Pharisees had heard that Jesus made and baptized more disciples than John, (though Jesus himself baptized not, but his disciples) he left Judea, and departed again into Galilee. And he must needs go through Samaria. Then cometh he to a city of Samaria, which is called Sychar, near to the parcel of ground that Jacob gave to his son Joseph. Now Jacob's well was there. Jesus therefore, bring weary with his journey, sat thus on the well: and it was about the sixth hour. There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water. Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink."
Here, then we have this marvelous scene before our eyes—a scene which neither Creation, nor the Law, nor Providence, could ever present to us. The Lord of glory came down into this world, to taste, as Man, weakness, weariness, and thirst—to know what it was to be in need of a draft of spring water. " Jesus being wearied with his journey, sat thus on the well." This world was a dry and thirsty land to Jesus. The only refreshment He found was in ministering of His grace to poor, needy sinners, such as that one who stood before Him at the well.
And let us carefully note the contrast in His style with the woman of Sychar, and the master in Israel. He does not say to her, " You must he born again," though surely it was true in her case, as in his. Why is this? We have already glanced at the reason. The Jewish ruler stood at the very summit, as it were, of the hill of legal righteousness, moral excellence, and traditionary religion. The poor Samaritan was away down in the deep pit of guilt and moral pollution. Hence, inasmuch as the blessed Lord had come down to meet man at the very lowest point in his condition—as He had come to give life to the dead—as He had come to deal with man as he was—all this being so, He must bring Nicodemus down to this point by telling him he must be born again—-He must remove from beneath his feet the entire platform on which he stood—He must show him that, notwithstanding all he possessed in the way of religiousness and fleshly standing, he must give all up and enter the kingdom as a new born babe—that he had nothing which could, by any possibility, be placed to his credit in that new position of which the Lord was speaking. If new birth is essential, then the Jewish ruler was not one whit better off than the Samaritan sinner. So far as she was concerned, it was plain that she wanted something, she could not bring her sins into the kingdom, and hence the Lord begins, at once, with her to unfold His grace. Nicodemus might imagine that he had something. It was plain and palpable that the Samaritan woman had nothing. To him, therefore, the word is "You must be born again." To her, the word is " Give me to drink." In the former, we discern the " truth" in the latter, the " grace " which came by Jesus Christ—" truth," to level all the pretensions of a Pharisee, " grace" to meet the deepest need of a Samaritan adulteress.
But, it is not a little interesting to observe that there are points of similarity as well as of contrast between Nicodemus and the Samaritan. Both meet Christ with a "How?" When "truth" fell upon the ear of the master π Israel, he said, " How can these things be? " When " grace" shone upon the woman of Sychar, she said, " How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? " We are all full of "Hows?" The truth of God, in all its majesty and authority, is put before us; we meet it with a how." The grace of God, in all its sweetness and tenderness, is unfolded in our view, we reply with a how? It may be a theological how, or a rationalistic how, it matters not, the poor heart will reason, instead of believing the truth, and receiving the grace of God. The will is active, and hence, although the conscience may be ill at ease, and the heart dissatisfied with itself and all around, still the unbelieving " how?" breaks forth in one form or another. Nicodemus says, " How can a man be born when he is old? " The Samaritan says, " How canst thou ask drink of me? "
Thus it is ever. When the word of God declares to us the utter worthlessness of nature, the heart, instead of bowing to the holy record, sends up its unholy reasonings. When the same word sets forth the boundless grace of God, and the free salvation which is in Christ Jesus, the heart, instead of receiving the grace, and rejoicing in the salvation, begins to reason as to how it can be. The human heart is closed against God—against the truth of His word, and against the love of His heart. The devil may speak, and the heart will give its ready credence. Man may speak, and the heart will greedily swallow what he says. Lies from the devil, and nonsense from man will all meet a ready reception from the poor human heart; but the moment God speaks, whether it be in the authoritative language of truth, or in the winning accents of grace, all the return the heart can make is an unbelieving, skeptical, rationalistic, infidel, " How?" Anything and everything for the natural heart save the truth and grace of God.
However, in the case of the woman of Sychar, our blessed Lord was not to be put off with her "how?" He had answered the "how?" of the man of the Pharisees, and He would now answer the "how?" of the woman of Sychar. He had replied to Nicodemus by pointing him to the brazen serpent, and telling him of the love of God in sending His Son; and He replies to the Samaritan by telling her, likewise, of " the gift of God." " Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water."
Now, the little word "gift" opens a vast range of most precious truth to the soul. The Lord does not say, " If thou knowest the law, thou wouldst have asked." Indeed, had she known it, she must have seen herself as lost under it, instead of being encouraged to ask for anything. No one ever got "living water" by the law. " This do and thou shalt live," was the language of the law. The law gave nothing save to the man that could keep it. And where was he? Assuredly the woman of Sychar had not kept it. This was plain. She had offended in one point and was guilty of all. (James.)
"But why," it may be asked, "be continually placing the law and the gospel in contrast? Are they not both parts of one grand system whereby God is educating man and fitting him for heaven? " We reply, our reason for placing them in contrast is that the Holy Ghost so places them, again and again. Let the reader ponder Acts 15, Gal. 3, and 4., and 2 Cor. 3, and say what he has found therein. Is it not the most vivid and striking contrast that could possibly be presented? Can any one read those magnificent passages of inspiration and say that the law is a necessary, an integral part of the gospel; and that if you take away the law you leave nothing behind worthy the name of a gospel? That the law was a school-master to the Jew from the time it was given, until Christ came, the apostle tells us in his epistle to the Galatians. That the law is good, if a man use it lawfully, the same apostle tells us in his epistle to Timothy, where he also tells us that the law is not made for a righteous man at all. (See 1 Tim. 1:7-9.) That the law slew him, he tells us in the seventh of Romans. That the law, so far from being an integral part of the gospel, came in by the way between the promise made to Abraham and the accomplishment thereof, in a dead and risen Christ, he tells us, in the third chapter of Galatians. But to assert that the law is a necessary part of the gospel, is not less preposterous than to assert that cursing is a necessary part of blessing, wrath a necessary part of favor, death a necessary part of life, condemnation a necessary part of righteousness. May the good Lord deliver souls from the baneful influence of law-teaching!
How well it was for " Jacob's erring daughter " that the Lord had something for her besides the thunders of the law! He could talk to her of, "gift," and surely requirement formed no integral or necessary part of gift. " The gift of God is eternal life," not through the law, but "through Jesus Christ our Lord." The law never even proposed such a thing as eternal life in heaven. It spoke of "long life in the land." But the gospel gives us eternal life here, and eternal glory hereafter in heaven. Two widely different things, and not two parts of the same thing. "If thou knowest the gift of God," that is Christ Himself, " thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water "—that is the Holy Ghost. Thus, as under the law, it was nothing but prohibition, requirement, and curse, under the gospel it is all gift, grace, and blessing.
How was this? The Law-giver had come down from the lofty summit of you fiery mount. He had laid aside His thunders and clothed Himself in humanity. Thus come down, thus clothed, He sat beside the well of Sychar in weariness and thirst, and though He could lay His hand upon all the treasures of the universe, He nevertheless asks a poor outcast adulteress for a drink. Ah! my reader, could you say, while gazing• on the matchless scene which meets your view "at Sychar's lonely well," "If you take away the law from the gospel, you leave nothing behind worthy the name of a gospel? " What should we think of the man who could stand up and say, "If you take away the seventh commandment from the fourth chapter of John, you leave nothing behind worthy the name of a gospel? " Do the thunders of Mount Sinai form an integral part of the moral glories which shine upon us at Jacob's well? Alas! for the man that can think so.
(To be continued, if the Lord will)
The Well of Sychar: Part 2
As we pursue our meditations on this wonderful scene at the well of Sychar, we are struck with the mode in which the woman urges her questions. No sooner does she receive an answer to one, than she brings forward another. The Lord had replied to her first " how? " by telling her of " the gift of God," and she makes His very answer the foundation of another question. " The woman saith unto him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with and the well is deep: from whence then hast thou that living water? "
Poor woman! How little she knew, as yet, of the One she was addressing! The well might be deep, but there was something deeper still, even her soul's deep need; and something deeper than that again, even the grace that had brought Him down from heaven to meet her need. But so little did she know of Him, that she could ask Him, " Art thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle? " She knew not that she was speaking to Jacob's God—to the One who had formed Jacob and given him all he ever possessed. She knew nothing of this. Her eyes were yet closed, and this was the true secret of her "How?" and her " Whence?"
Thus it is in every case. Whenever you find people raising questions, you may be quite sure they want to have their eyes opened. The rationalist, and the skeptic, and the infidel are blind. It is their very blindness that causes them to raise questions, make difficulties, and create doubts. They seem to be very learned; but it is amazing what silly questions they raise. A child, in spiritual knowledge! might well smile at the questions of profound and hoary headed infidels.
However, in the case of the Samaritan, the questions were not so much the fruit of a hold infidelity as of nature's blindness and ignorance, and therefore the Lord patiently waits on her. There were times when He knew how to silence and dismiss a querist, in a very summary manner. But there were also times in the which He could, in condescending grace, and perfect patience, wait on the poor ignorant inquirer, for the purpose of answering his questions, resolving his doubts, and removing his fears.
Thus it was at the well of Sychar. He was determined to make Himself known to this poor guilty one, and hence, He follows her in all her questionings, removes, one by one, her difficulties, and leaves her not until He perfectly satisfies her soul by the revelation of Himself. She thought the well was deep, and wondered if He were greater than her father Jacob. She could not conceive how He could get this water of which He spoke. " Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again." Deep as the well was, it was shallow, after all, when compared with the thirst that had to be quenched. Earth's deepest and fullest well can be fathomed and drained, and the soul remain thirsty after all. The inscription written by the hand of Jesus on the well of Sychar, may be written on all the wells of this poor passing world: " Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again." The rich man, in Luke xvi., had drunk deeply of this world's wells; but he thirsted again. Oh! yes; reader, he lifted up his eyes in hell, being in torment, and craved, hut craved in vain, a single drop of water to cool his parched tongue. There is not so much as a drop of water in hell. Solemn thought! Solemn for all; but perfectly appalling for the sons and daughters of luxury, ease, and grandeur, who spend their time in running from well to well of this world, and think not of an eternity of burning thirst in the lake of fire. May God, by His Spirit, arrest such, and lead them to Jesus, the Giver of that living water of which whoso drinketh shall never thirst!
How refreshing is the thought! " Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." Here the soul is satisfied. It has gotten a well of living water within, ever fresh, ever flowing, ever springing up toward its native source; for water always finds its own level. Our Lord here speaks of the Holy Ghost who dwells in all true believers, and is the power of communion with the Father and with His Son, Jesus Christ. In John 3:5, the Holy Ghost is spoken of in His quickening operation. In chapter iv. 14, He is the power of communion; and, in chapter vii. 38, He is the power of ministry. It is by the Holy Ghost, the soul is regenerated; by Him we are enabled to hold fellowship with God; and by Him we become channels of blessing to others. It is all by the Spirit who connects us, by an eternal link, to Christ the Head of the New Creation, in whom and through whom we enjoy all the blessings and privileges with which it hath pleased the Father to endow us.
But let us mark how all this comes out in our narrative. " The woman saith unto him, Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw." She is still in the dark. Nothing seems to reach her heart. Her eyes are closed, her understanding darkened. The Savior of sinners was before her, but she knew Him not. He was speaking words of grace to her, but she understood them not. He had asked her for a drink, and she replied with a " how? " He had told her of God's gift, and she replied with a " whence?" He had spoken of an everlasting well, and she seeks only to be spared the trouble of coming to draw. What remains? Just this, " Go call thy husband and come hither."
Here, we reach the grand turning point. Our blessed Lord is compelled, as it were, to take an arrow from His quiver and aim it directly at the woman's conscience. She says, " Give me this water;" and He says, "Go, call thy husband." It is as though He had said to her, "If you want this living water of which I have been telling you, you must get it as a poor convicted, broken-hearted sinner." Wonderful! Truly wonderful! Who can attempt to fathom the depth of those two words " Go " and " Come?" She was not merely to go and call her husband, but to come back to Christ in her true character. And this was the way to get the living water. " Go, call thy husband." Here truth shines in upon the woman's conscience, in order to make manifest her true condition. But, " come hither " was the blessed expression of grace that could invite such a poor sinful creature to come to Him, just as she was, to receive the living water, as a free gift from His hand.
Now, the most cursory reader must see the powerful effect produced upon this woman by the entrance of the sharp arrow of conviction into her conscience. She now says, for the first time, " Sir, I perceive" This was something. Her eyes are beginning to open. She sees something. She finds herself in the presence of some mysterious personage whom she takes to be a prophet. It was through her conscience that the first faint beams of divine light were forced in upon her moral being. She discovers that the One who had asked her for a drink knew all about her, and yet He had asked her, and talked with her, and had not despised her. This, truly, was a turning point in her spiritual history.
Reader, have you ever yet reached this point? Has your conscience ever been really in the presence of that light which makes " all things" manifest? Have you ever seen yourself as a poor, lost, guilty, Christless, hell-deserving sinner? Has the arrow yet entered your conscience? Christ has various kinds of arrows in His quiver. He had an arrow for a man of the Pharisees, and He had an arrow for the woman of Sychar. They were different arrows; hat they did their work. " He that doeth truth cometh to the light/' was the arrow for a man of the Pharisees. " Go, call thy husband," was the arrow for the woman of Sychar. Quite different, no doubt, but each did its work. The conscience must be reached. The question of sin and righteousness must be settled in the presence of God. Say, reader, has your conscience been reached? Has this great and all-important question been settled between your soul and God? If so, you will be able to understand the remainder of this charming and inexhaustible narrative.
We may, at this point in our subject, remark that there are three things to be seen in the history of the Samaritan woman; namely, a detected sinner; a revealed Savior and a devoted saint. The words, " Go, call thy husband " detected the sinner. But do we not often find that when the conscience of a sinner is brought under exercise as to his sins and the claims of God, he is very apt to get occupied with questions about places of worship? Has it not been thus with most of us? Doubtless. There are few who have trodden the earlier stages of what is called religious life, without some exercise of heart as to the conflicting claims of churches or denominations. Where ought I to worship? To what denomination should I attach myself? What Church ought I to join? Which is the most scriptural body? These are questions which most of us have sat down to canvass, in our day; and that, too, long before our souls had found rest in a revealed Savior. Just like the poor woman of Sychar. No sooner had she given utterance to the words, " I perceive" than she begins to speak about places of worship. " Our fathers worshipped in this mountain; and ye say, that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship." Some worship here; some worship there; where ought we to worship?
Now, without wishing to detract, in the smallest degree, from the interest of such questions, we do most distinctly declare they are not questions to be discussed by a detected or convicted sinner. The grand and all-engrossing point for such an one is to find himself in the presence of a revealed Savior. Yes; we repeat it, and that with emphasis, what a detected sinner needs is not a place of worship, a sect, a church, or a denomination; but a revealed Savior. Let this be deeply pondered, clearly understood, and carefully borne in mind. A convicted sinner can never become a devoted saint, until he finds his happy place at the feet of a revealed Savior.
We crave permission to urge this upon the serious notice of the reader. Immense damage has been done to souls and to the true interests of practical Christianity, by the heart being occupied with churches and denominations, instead of with a Savior-God. If I join a church before I have found Christ, I am in great danger of making the church a stepping-stone to Christ; and it too often happens that stepping-stones to Christ, prove, in the sequel, to be stepping-stones from Christ. We want no stepping-stones to Christ. He has come so very near to us as to leave no room for any such thing. What stepping-stone did the Samaritan adulteress require? None. Christ was at her side, though she knew Him not; and He was patiently dislodging her from every lurking-place in which she had ensconced herself, in order that she might see herself as a great sinner, and see Him as a great Savior, come down, in perfect grace, to save her, not only from the guilt and consequences of her sin, hut also from the practice and the power thereof. What could " this mountain " or " Jerusalem " do for her? Was it not obvious that a prior, a paramount question claimed her serious attention, namely, what she was to do with her sins—how she was to be saved? Could she "Go, call her husband," and betake herself to the mountain of Samaria, or to the temple at Jerusalem? What relief could those places afford to her burdened heart, or her guilty conscience? Could she find salvation there? Could she worship the Father, in spirit and in truth, there? "Was it not plain that she wanted salvation, ere she could worship anywhere?
To all these questions we have a full and faithful answer in Christ's words. " Jesus saith unto her, Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father. Ye worship ye know not what: toe know what we worship: for salvation is of the Jews. But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him. God is a Spirit; and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth."
Thus, then, our blessed Lord plainly showed the woman not only that she was a sinner, but also that it was useless her occupying her mind with questions about places of worship? She wanted salvation, and this salvation could only be had through the knowledge of God revealed as Father, in the face of Jesus Christ. Such was the ground of all true and spiritual worship. In order to worship the Father, we must know Him, and to know Him is salvation and everlasting life.
Christian reader, let us bear away with us from the well of Sychar a holy and much-needed lesson as to the right mode of dealing with anxious souls. When such cross our path, let us not occupy them with questions about sects and parties, churches and denominations, creeds and confessions. It is positively cruel so to do. They want salvation—they want to know God—they want Christ. Let us seek to shut them up to this one thing, and charge them not to move one hair's breadth thence, until they have found Christ. Church questions have their place, and their value, and their interest; but clearly they are not for anxious souls, Thousands, we fear, have been kept from "digging deep" and " laying their foundation on the rock" by having church questions injudiciously forced upon their attention just as their eyes were being opened to " perceive," and before they could say, " Jesus is mine." We are all so foolishly anxious to swell the ranks of our party, that we are in danger of thinking more about getting people to join us than we are about leading them simply and fully to Christ. Let us judge this evil. Let us ponder the example of the Master, in his dealings with the woman of Sychar, and never lead precious souls to be occupied with the place of worship instead of the ground, the object, and the spirit thereof.
Mark the blessed result of His dealings. The woman is plainly shut up to one thing now. She is ready for a revealed Savior. " I know that Messias cometh, which is called Christ: when he is come, he will tell us all things." She seems to be done with her questions. She had asked " How? " and He had answered her. She had asked " Whence? " and He had answered her. She had asked " Where?" and He had answered her. And, now, what remains? I want Christ, she says. You have Him, He replies. " I that speak unto thee am he." This is enough. All is settled now. She has found her all in Christ. It is not a mountain, nor a temple, Samaria, nor Jerusalem. She has found Jesus—a Savior-God. A detected sinner and a revealed Savior have met, face to face, and all is settled, once and forever. She discovered the wonderful fact that the One who had asked her for a drink knew all about her—could tell her all that ever she did, and yet He talked to her of salvation. What more did she want? Nothing. " She left her water-pot, and went her way into the city, and saith to the men, Come, see a man, which told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ? "
Here, then, we have a devoted saint. The work was a thorough one. How could it be otherwise when the Master's hand had wrought it? He had probed her conscience to its deepest depths—shown her herself—driven her from every lurking place and false refuge—taught her the fallacy of being occupied about places of worship—made her feel that nothing but Christ Himself could meet her need—finally, He revealed Himself to her, took full possession of hen soul, and caused her to prove, in her blissful experience, " the displacing power of a new affection." She had left Sychar that morning, a poor degraded adulteress, and she returned a happy saint, and a devoted servant of Christ. She left her water-pot behind her, and returned to the scene of her crimes and her degradation, to make it the sphere of her brilliant and decided testimony for Christ: " Come, see a man which told me all things that ever I did." Precious testimony: Precious invitation!
Christian reader, be this our work, henceforth. May our grand object be to invite sinners to come to Jesus. This woman began at once. No sooner had she found Christ for herself, than she forthwith entered upon the blessed work of leading others to His feet. Let us go and do likewise. Let us, by word and deed—" by all means," as the apostle says, seek to gather as many as possible, around the Person of the Son of God. Some of us have to judge ourselves for lukewarmness in this blessed work. We see some rushing along the broad and well-trodden highway that leadeth down to eternal perdition, and yet, how little are we moved by the sight! How slow are we to sound in their ears, that true, that proper gospel note, " Come!" Oh! for more zeal, more energy, more fervor! May the Lord grant us such a deep sense of the value of immortal souls, the preciousness of Christ, and the awful solemnity of eternity, as shall constrain us to a more urgent, faithful dealing with the souls of men!
The Well of Sychar: Part 3
Sweet was the hour, Ο Lord, to Thee,
At Sychar's lonely well,
When a poor outcast heard
Thee there Thy great salvation tell.
Thither she came: but O, her heart,
All fill'd with earthly care,
Dream'd not of Thee, nor thought to find
The Hope of Israel there.
Lord! 'twas thy power unseen that drew
The stray one to that place,
In solitude to learn from Thee
The secrets of Thy grace.
There Jacob's erring daughter found
Those streams unknown before:
The waterbrooks of life that make
The weary thirst no more.
And, Lord, to us, as vile as she,
Thy gracious lips have told
That mystery of love, reveal'd
At Jacob's well of old.
In spirit, Lord, we've sat with
Thee Beside the springing well
Of life and peace—and heard
Thee there Its healing virtues tell.
Dead to the world, we dream no more
Of earthly pleasures now;
Our deep, divine, unfailing spring
Of grace and glory, Thou!
No hope of rest in aught beside,
No beauty, Lord, we see,
And, like Samaria's daughter, seek
And find our all in Thee.