I have experienced that sometimes, if I hold on to my coveted silence, tuck my feet under and really nestle into it, I am startled by any intrusion.

I think the Samaritan Woman at the well in John chapter 4:8-30, was like me in that way. She felt secure in her silent aloneness. She regularly came to the Town Well at high noon to draw her daily water. She thought she was safely alone. She wanted to be alone. She knew that none of the other town women would be there. They had already come in the cool of the early morning to chat, laugh, commiserate, and enjoy each other’s company while carrying out their first chore of the day.

She was so totally absorbed in her own silence, physically and mentally curled into it, that a man’s voice startled her out of her reverie. Jesus asked for a drink. His request for a drink filled up her dusty quiet vacuum of solitude. He broke right through and read her thoughts. How long had it been since someone had talked to her directly or even acknowledged her presence for that matter?

Her natural inclination was to sarcastically rebuff this strange man, but Jesus didn’t react to her like all the other men in her life. He spoke the truth to her. He saw her essence and core need. He saw her thirst for belonging and acceptance that couldn’t be quenched by serial relationships.

We all walk through life consumed by our longings. If I would just recognize Jesus’ voice, turn to Him, and take what He offers, living water, the craving of my soul would be quenched with each successive sip.

Am I still startled by Jesus’ voice?

Like the woman at the well,

I was seeking, for things that could not satisfy.

And then I heard my Savior speaking,

draw from my well that never shall run dry.

Here’s my cup Lord, I lift it up Lord.

Come and quench this thirsting of my soul.

Bread of Heaven, fill me till I want no more,

Fill my cup, fill it up and make me whole.

Fill My Cup Lord, by Richard Blanchard