There Was Jesus

Seeing Jesus in the form of a man has been a life challenge for me. I know he is real. I know he walked on earth as a living, breathing flesh. But growing up, I could never connect to the reality of the flesh side of him. I could not understand how someone I could not tangibly see could really love me.  

Until now...

In my 50ish years, my journey has led me straight to the face of my Jesus. And my own well of sorts.  

Relating to the woman at the well has not only become a reflection of my own brokenness but a source of my healing.  Jesus never intended for what broke me to have a lifetime hold on me. I did that. I was my own judge. And juror. 

Daily trials, life's mishaps, broken pieces, and my lack of understanding continuously led me to the one face that loves me in spite of myself.   My. Jesus. The weariness of my flesh at times will overtake my thoughts in the attempt to remove any presence of Him. But yet He remains. 

He remains in my moments of uncertainty and in my moments of peace. 

 

He is there. 

 Always. 

Over the last few months, he has continuously reminded me though he remains, I am to remain in him. 

If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, you shall ask what you will, and it shall be done unto you. - John 15:7

The woman at the well had isolated herself from society in an attempt to hide her broken shame.  

Guilt. 

Embarrassment. 

Unworthiness. 

Self-loathing.

And the list goes on. 

I get her.  

I had isolated my heart and built a wall of a Fort Knox magnitude over the years.  I listened to the voice of shame on repeat over and over again. I questioned my worth, appearance, intellect, and even His love for me.  

But through it all...

He has met me and continues to meet me at whatever well I am currently at in life, never to turn away from even the ugliest parts of me, and restores His daughter to where He would have me to be.   

There.Was. Jesus. 

And because of Him, my days of sitting at the well have a purpose.