A few months ago I was asked to write a story for a LOG activity. This is what I came up with. Figured I would share it.
The Young Boy grumbled to himself as he stomped toward the well. This was not a man's work, gathering water. He hunched his shoulders against both his anger and the heat of the afternoon. His mother had sent him to the well, too caught up in caring for the Boy's crying infant sister to gather the water herself. She had yelled at him of the importance of water. Would he rather them all die of thirst than swallow his pride and carry one jug? And after all, he was still just a Boy, while she was his mother. He must listen to her.
The Boy could not deny the importance of water for
survival. It was true that every
creature, every living thing needed the water.
Living in the small, Samaritan town, the Boy was well aware of this
need, even at such a young age. The
weather was harsh and unforgiving, and if a person was careless or lazy he
would regret it greatly. But at eight
years old the Boy chose not to consider this.
He kicked a stone out of his path, cringing when he felt the pain in his
toes.
As he approached the well he stopped abruptly – Photini was
walking in the direction of the well, carrying a large jug. Everyone in town knew of Photini. The Boy's mother would be horrified if she
thought he spoke even the shortest greeting to this woman. He was stuck, unsure of what to do, when he
noticed a Man sitting at the well. The
Man greeted Photini kindly, then asked if she would give Him water. The Boy wondered briefly if this Man knew the
kind of woman he spoke to, but then realized with shock that He was a Jew! What on Earth was he doing speaking to a
Samaritan woman, especially one like Photini?
The Boy inched closer to the well, curious to hear what the
Man was saying. “If you knew Who was
asking you for water, you would ask Me for water, and I should give you
living water.” Living water? The
Boy thought, amazed. He had never yet
heard of living water. He stepped
closer, eager to hear more.
Photini and the Man were speaking about her life – the Boy
wondered if he should cover his ears – when she suddenly ran from the well,
leaving her jug behind. As she ran past,
he heard Photini calling out about the Messiah.
The Boy looked back toward the Man, who seemed to be watching a group of
men walk up the hill toward the well.
“Come see me, my Boy,” He said. The Boy jumped; he had thought he went
unnoticed. The Man turned toward him,
and beckoned him to come. The Boy
nervously walked forward. “What is
living water?” he asked the Man. The Man
smiled gently, and reached out to touch the Boy's shoulder.
“It is the water that I give. Whoever drinks of this water will never be
thirsty again. The water that I give
will become a fountain of everlasting water, springing up into eternal
life.” The Boy simply shook his head,
not understanding what the Man meant, but knowing somehow that this was
important, that this Man was no ordinary man.
“I'm sorry. I don't
understand. How could anyone not need
water again?”
The Man chuckled, and reached into a pack that was resting
at His feet. He pulled out a small, clay
cup and a leather strap, and began wrapping the strap around the cup even as He
spoke. “Tell me, my Boy, why you feel
water is so important?”
The Boy thought this was a silly question, but he answered
anyway. “It gives life. No one can live without drinking water. We would die without it.”
“This is true,” the Man answered. “You mother, your father, your baby sister –
all of you need water to live.” He
looked up and smiled at the Boy, who was staring open-mouthed at Him. “But would you like to know a secret?” He leaned toward the Boy, who nodded and came
closer to Him. “Your soul,” the Man
touched a finger to the Boy's chest.
“Your soul needs something else to live.
Your soul needs Me, and my Father Who is in Heaven. And I will give your soul living water. And it is through Me that you will find
eternal life – life that far surpasses your life here on this earth. Would you like to hear something else?” The Boy nodded again. He had felt power in the simple touch to his
chest. He felt as though his whole body
was shining. The Man looked at him as
though He knew what the Boy was feeling.
“Whoever believes in me, out of his heart will flow rivers of living
water,” He said. “I give you My living
water, and you pass that along to others, who can pass it to others, and so
on.” He handed the Boy the cup, which
now had the leather wrapped around it in such a way that the Boy could wear the
cup around his neck. He did so now,
feeling that the cup was somehow sacred.
He knew he would never lose it, even if only because it would make him
think of this Man.
The Boy turned to face the group of men who had just reached
the well. They called out to the Man
cheerfully – they obviously knew Him well – and the Man acknowledged them with
a wave. He turned to the Boy and placed
His hand on the Boy's head. “Go, my
child, and let the rivers of My living water flow from you. And remember, if anyone thirsts, let him come
to Me and drink. Anyone, my
child.” The Boy nodded and ran toward
home. He was almost to his house when he
realized he had forgotten to gather the water.
He looked down at the pitcher he held in his hands and almost dropped it
in amazement when he realized it was full.
He walked into his home, feeling lighter and stronger than he had ever
felt in his life. He took the small cup
from around his neck and poured some water into it. With that in hand, he went to his mother and
said, “Mother. Come sit, and drink, and
listen as I tell you about the Living Water.”
