The Human Help to the Divine
“Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink.” — John iv. 7.
There was a man of my acquaintance who had once injured me, and from whom I had therefore been long estranged. Yet he had been linked to associations of my past, and I had a great wish to be reconciled. What course was open to me? Should I write a letter of forgiveness? That would be a form of accusation. Should I do him a favour? That would be coals of fire, and coals of fire are not agreeable to the recipient. I decided upon an opposite method. Instead of doing a favour to him, I would ask him to confer a favour on me. I did; he granted it, and resumed the friendship. And in that hour I understood for the first time the deep significance of the narrative of Samaria. Here is a woman whose life has been very bad; her spirit is in a state of enmity to Christ. Christ wishes to draw her heart into sympathy with His own. How shall He do so? He has all possible gifts at His command; shall He load her with His benefits?
No. This woman is already in a state of spiritual pauperism. She has lost the sense of her own dignity, and benefits would perpetuate that loss. Christ feels that His favours would simply make her sore, accentuate her alienation, increase her dislike to holiness. Accordingly He who knew what was in man says: “Instead of helping her, I will let her help me; I will let her first sense of grace be a sense of rising dignity — a relaxation of the humiliating chain.” He who came to minister asks this woman to minister to Him. He asks a drink of water. It was a very small boon; but the treasure lay in the asking, not the getting. The woman was uplifted in a moment. She would have crouched if she had been offered something; but to be asked for something — that was grand! That a poor creature like her should give a subscription to the Church Universal, that one of Christ’s paupers should be requested to join a committee for the building of His Temple — this was exhilarating, this was reconciling, this made life again worth living! It was something to have answered a prayer of Jesus!
Lord, I often thank Thee that Thou hast heard my prayers; do I ever bless Thee that I have heard Thine! For indeed by day and night Thou prayest to me. I often speak of being
97 G awakened to spiritual life. What is it that has awakened me from sleep? Is it my prayers? No, Lord, it is Thine; I have heard a knocking at the door, and my slumber has been broken. It is Thy want which has broken my slumber — not mine. It is not I that have knocked at the door of heaven; it is Thou that has knocked at the door of earth. I am the child of Thy prayers — not my own. Samaritan as I am, sinner as I am, Thou hast asked drink of me. I am glad that Thou hast asked drink of me. I am glad that Thou hast allowed me to begin by giving, not receiving. To a heart crushed with sin, to a heart that has done nothing for Thee, Thy benefits are a load; they bring more weight than wing. But to benefit Thee — that is an wdoading of my soul. To be waited on by Thee is the life of the invalid; but to wait on Thee is to renew my strength, to mount up on wings as eagles. There is no fragrance like that of my alabaster box — the box I break for Thee. There is no radiance like that of Bethlehem’s gold — the gold I bring to Thee. There is no freshness like that of Samaria’s water — the water I pour for Thee. I thank Thee, O Lord, that Thou hast asked something which is mine.