Scripture
“Jesus answered and said to her, ‘Everyone who drinks of this water will thirst again; but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall never thirst; but the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life.’ The woman then said to Him, ‘Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty nor come here to draw.’”
(John 4:13–15)
Meditation :
These words, spoken in the heat of a Samaritan noon, are among the most tender and piercing in all of Scripture. A woman, weary from drawing water and wearier still from a lifetime of broken cisterns, stands before the Lord of glory and utters a plea that echoes through every submissive heart: “Sir, give me this water.”
Give me.
Not “teach me.”
Not “explain to me.”
Not “let me earn it” or “let me understand it first.”
Simply: Give. Me. This. Water.
In that moment she models the essence of Christian devotion, the posture that alone receives the gift of God: utter, unashamed, childlike submission. She does not negotiate. She does not present credentials. She does not hide her shame or polish her reputation. She has been found out (five husbands, and the one she has now is not her husband), and instead of running away, she runs toward the One who knows her completely. She casts herself at His feet with two small words that contain the whole gospel: Give me.
This is the heartbeat of submissive devotion: the soul’s total reliance on Christ to give what only Christ can give. It is the opposite of self-sufficiency. It is the end of striving. It is the sweet surrender that says, “I am thirsty, and You alone have living water. I am empty, and You alone can fill. I am unworthy, yet You invite me. So here I am, Lord: Give me this water.”
I. The Thirst That Only Christ Can Name
Every human being is born thirsty. We come into the world crying for milk, and we never stop crying for something more. We drink from a thousand wells (pleasure, achievement, relationships, religion, distraction), yet the thirst remains. Augustine’s ancient confession is still the truest diagnosis: “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”
The Samaritan woman had tried everything. Five husbands had not satisfied her. The sixth was failing too. She came to Jacob’s well at noon, the hottest hour, almost certainly to avoid the stares of the other women who came at dawn or dusk. She was isolated, ashamed, and still parched. And then Jesus spoke the most disarming sentence imaginable: “Give Me a drink.”
He, the Creator of oceans, asked her for water. He, the fountain of life, made Himself dependent on a sinner’s broken bucket. Why? Because love always stoops. Because the Shepherd seeks the one lost sheep. Because before He would ever demand anything from her, He would first offer everything to her.
And when she marveled that a Jewish man would speak to a Samaritan woman, He lifted the conversation out of the shallow cisterns of race and religion into the deep places of the soul: “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, ‘Give Me a drink,’ you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water.”
If you knew.
That is always the beginning of submissive devotion: coming to know who He is. Not just knowing about Him, but knowing Him (the Holy One who sees every secret, yet still draws near; the Righteous One who could condemn, yet chooses to save; the Self-sufficient One who thirsts for our love).
The moment we glimpse who He really is, our own thirst is properly named. We realize that every lesser desire was only a shadow of our desire for Him. We discover that we were not made to be filled by the world, but to be filled by the One who made the world. And in that discovery, the soul cries out with the only prayer that fits the moment: Give me this water.
II. The Posture of the Empty Cup
Submissive devotion is not passivity. It is not laziness or fatalism or spiritual resignation. It is the deliberate, daily choice to remain an empty cup before the throne of grace.
An empty cup makes no demands. It does not say, “Fill me on my terms.” It does not say, “Fill me with what I think I need.” It simply presents itself (cracked, stained, small though it may be) and waits for the Master’s hand.
This is terrifying to the flesh. The flesh wants control. The flesh wants to contribute something (a little goodness, a little discipline, a little understanding) so that it can claim at least partial credit for the filling. But the gospel will tolerate no such partnership. “It is finished,” Jesus cried from the cross. The well has been dug. The water has been paid for with blood. All that remains is to receive.
So submissive devotion learns the grammar of grace:
- Not “I will bring water to Jesus,” but “Jesus, give me water.”
- Not “I will climb up to God,” but “Father, lift me.”
- Not “I will make myself lovely,” but “Beloved, wash me.”
- Not “I will earn Your smile,” but “Father, smile on me because of Your Son.”
Every saint who has ever walked closely with Christ has spoken this language. Listen to the psalmist: “As the deer pants for the water brooks, so my soul pants for You, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God” (Psalm 42:1–2). Listen to Isaiah: “Ho! Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat” (Isaiah 55:1). Listen to the bride in the Song of Songs: “Sustain me with raisin cakes, refresh me with apples, because I am sick with love” (Song 2:5).
Even on the cross, Jesus Himself entered our thirst so that He might fill it forever. “I am thirsty,” He gasped (John 19:28). The One who is living water allowed Himself to taste the full bitterness of spiritual dehydration so that we might never thirst apart from Him. And when the soldier lifted the sponge of sour wine to His lips, prophecy was fulfilled and redemption was sealed. The transaction was complete: His thirst for our thirst.
Now the invitation stands open for every weary traveler: Come. Drink. Freely.
III. The Daily Discipline of Asking
Submissive devotion is not a once-for-all crisis. It is a daily posture. The manna had to be gathered every morning; the water from the rock had to be drunk again and again. So it is with the soul.
Every morning the submissive heart wakes up thirsty and says, “Give me this day my daily water.” Every noon, when the sun is high and the accusations are loud, the submissive heart whispers, “Lord, I am the woman at the well again; give me this water.” Every night, when the house is quiet and the failures of the day lie heavy, the submissive heart prays, “Father, I do not deserve a single drop, yet for Jesus’ sake, give me this water.”
This is the secret of the saints who seemed to live in perpetual springtime while walking through deserts. They had learned to ask. They had learned to stay low. They had learned the blessedness of spiritual poverty: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
George Herbert’s poem “Love (III)” captures it perfectly. The sinner stands at the door, ashamed and unworthy. Love Himself invites him in:
Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lacked anything.
“A guest,” I answered, “worthy to be here”:
Love said, “You shall be he.”
“I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on thee.”
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
“Who made the eyes but I?”
“Truth, Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.”
“And know you not,” says Love, “who bore the blame?”
“My dear, then I will serve.”
“You must sit down,” says Love, “and taste my meat.”
So I did sit and eat.
That is submissive devotion in its purest form: sitting down at Another’s table, eating Another’s food, drinking Another’s water, and discovering that the Host delights to serve the unworthy.
IV. The Fruit of the Filled Cup
A cup that is continually filled cannot help but overflow. This is the beautiful paradox of submissive devotion: the lower we go, the higher He lifts us; the more we receive, the more we have to give.
The Samaritan woman left her water jar (that old, heavy, broken symbol of her self-reliance) and ran into the city crying, “Come, see a man who told me all the things that I have done!” She who had hidden at noon now preached in the streets. She who had been defined by her shame now became the first evangelist to Samaria. Why? Because she had met the One who gave her living water, and that water was already springing up within her.
So it is with every submissive soul. The water we receive is never merely for us. It is the water of the Spirit, and the Spirit is never stagnant. He flows. He overflows. He turns empty sinners into fountains that water entire cities.
This is why the most fruitful Christians in history have almost always been the most submissive ones. Think of Mary of Bethany sitting at Jesus’ feet while Martha fussed in the kitchen. Think of Brother Lawrence practicing the presence of God while washing dishes. Think of Hudson Taylor on his knees in China, whispering, “Lord, I have no power of myself to help these people; You must do it.” Think of Mother Teresa picking up the dying and saying, “I am only a pencil in God’s hand.”
They all learned the same secret: the way up is down. The way to bear fruit is to abide. The way to change the world is to stay thirsty for Jesus and let Him fill us again and again and again.
V. A Final Invitation
So here we are, dear reader. You and I stand again at Jacob’s well. The sun is high. The water jar is heavy. The past is loud. And Jesus is still asking for a drink, because He loves to make Himself dependent on our weak love so that He can give us His strong love in return.
He knows everything you have ever done.
He knows every husband that failed you, every promise you broke, every secret thirst you have tried to satisfy with mud.
And still He says, “If you knew the gift of God…”
Will you negotiate?
Will you explain?
Will you try to draw water with your own broken bucket one more time?
Or will you simply fall at His feet and say the words that unlock eternity:
Sir…
Give me this water.
He will not refuse.
He never has.
He never will.
The fountain is open.
The invitation stands.
The water is free.
Only come thirsty.
Only come empty.
Only come now.
And He will give you water (living water, springing water, everlasting water) until your cup overflows and your soul is satisfied forever in the One who gave everything so that you might never thirst again.
“Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters…
Incline your ear, and come to Me.
Hear, and your soul shall live.”
Prayer point
Give me this water, Lord Jesus.
Today and every day.
Until I see You face to face
and drink forever from the river of Your delights.
Amen.
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