LEAVING THE WATER JAR BEHIND

  W  

 hen we read God's Word slowly and prayerfully, there are times when a particular word or phrase seems to rise from the page and settle deeply into our hearts. 

It is often in these seemingly small details that the Holy Spirit speaks most powerfully. 

As I was meditating on the account of the woman at the well in John 4, one brief phrase captured my attention: "Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town..." (John 4:28) 

Although I did not realize its significance at first, the more I considered it, the more remarkable it became.

The water jar was the very reason she had come to the well. 

Drawing water was not a minor task she could easily postpone. 

Water was essential for daily life. It was one of the most important responsibilities of her day. 

And yet she left it behind. Why? 

Because she had just encountered Jesus. 

More than that, she had encountered a Savior who knew her completely. 

Jesus revealed things about her life that no stranger could have known. He exposed the hidden and painful chapters of her story. 

He saw her failures, her disappointments, her shame, and her brokenness. 

Yet He did not reject her.

 

He did not condemn her. 

He offered her living water. 

Imagine the awe that must have filled her heart. 

Imagine standing before Someone who knows everything you have ever done and finding not rejection, but mercy. 

Not humiliation, but hope. 

When she returned to the village, her testimony was simple: "Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did.  "Could this be the Messiah?" (John 4:29) 

Those words reveal what had overwhelmed her soul. 

She could not get over the fact that Jesus knew her completely. 

He knew everything. 

And still He welcomed her. 

In that moment, the water jar no longer mattered. 

The task that had seemed so important when she left home suddenly became insignificant compared to what she had discovered. 

Her priorities were transformed by her encounter with Christ. 

She ran back to the village, not carrying water, but carrying good news. 

She had to tell someone. 

She had to tell everyone. 

The woman who had come to the well burdened by her past became one of the first people in Samaria to proclaim the Messiah. 

As I reflected on this passage, I found myself asking a question: 

Have I lost some of that wonder? Do I still stand in awe of the fact that Jesus knows everything about me—and loves me still? 

The woman at the well reminds us that the gospel is not merely information to be understood. 

It is good news so astonishing that it changes our priorities, captures our hearts, and compels us to tell others. 

May we never lose our sense of wonder before the Savior who knows us completely and loves us perfectly. 

And may we, like the woman at the well, be willing to leave our water jars behind when Jesus calls our attention to something infinitely greater.

Tug-O-War

O

h, was I ever embarrassed!

For a split second, a Chick-fil-A employee and I played tug-of-war over a bright red drink carrier.

You see, except for church, I don't get out much anymore. I haven't been to a grocery store in several years, and I can't remember the last time I wandered through a department store.

Truth be told, I actually love being at home, so that's not a complaint.

But the other night, on the way home from the hospital, I stopped to pick up something for my son and me to eat.

When the sweet young Chick-fil-A employee brought out our food and drinks, I thought, "Well, things are certainly coming up in the world!"

Gone were the flimsy cardboard drink holders I remembered from years ago. Instead, she was carrying my drinks in a sturdy, bright red plastic carrier.

As you can see from the picture, I reached for the whole thing.

But she confidently pulled it back toward herself.

Maybe she had been trained for just such an incident.

After she walked away, I had to laugh out loud at my crazy, almost homebound self.

Then the irony of it all struck me.

For a moment, I thought the carrier came with the drinks.

How often do I do the same thing with God's gifts?

How often do I grasp for things God has temporarily placed in my hands and begin to think they belong to me?

My time.

My possessions.

My abilities.

Even the people I love.

Everything I have is a gift from Him, entrusted to me for a season.

The moment I start believing it is mine by right, I have forgotten that I am a steward, not an owner.

Sometimes we reach for something that seems perfectly reasonable.

It even looks good.

Useful.

Better than what we've had before.

Yet God gently but firmly says, "That isn't for you."

We may not understand why at the moment, but He sees the larger purpose.

If God pulls something back, it isn't because He is withholding a blessing.

Maybe it is because what we're reaching for was never intended to be ours in the first place.

As I drove away laughing at myself, I realized that the little red carrier was never mine to begin with. It had simply been placed in my hands for a moment.

Perhaps that is true of far more in my life than I realize.

For a moment, I thought the carrier came with the drinks.

Sometimes I do the same thing with God's gifts.

A DIVINE MEETING-What Happens When We Intercede

W hen we consider what happened on the cross after 4000 years, it's no wonder that the veil was RIPPED from top to bottom, the earth shook, rocks split, and some tombs of holy men and women of God emptied forth their dead and these people went walking about. 

 For in the words of Dutch Sheets in Intercessory Prayer, this is where 

 "Mercy met judgment 

 Righteousness met sin 

 Light met darkness 

 Humility met pride 

 Love met hate 

 Life met death 

 A Cursed One on a tree 

met the curse that originated 

from a tree 

 The sting of death met 

the antidote of resurrection." 

 and these meetings were head-on meetings--no mealy little clash of one against the other. 

 Sheets refers to the scripture in Proverbs--

 It is better to meet a she bear robbed of her cubs than a fool in his folly. 

 The Hebrew word paga is used here for the word "meet." 

 It is the same Hebrew word that is used many times for the word "intercession." 

 When we intercede for others or things, there is a meeting--a heavenly clash if you will 

such as a mother bear and the one who comes between her and her cubs. 

Try to imagine just for a moment what that "meeting" would be like. 

 We've all read stories of hikers in Yosemite or Yellowstone who got in the way of just such a mother--I won't go into details but the outcomes usually are very grim--life changing for sure if not life taking. 

 The "meeting" produced an outcome. 

 As Sheets says, "When Jesus cried, 'It is finished,' don't think for one minute that he was talking about death when he spoke that word. 

The Greek word tetelestai, interpreted 'It is finished' was stamped on invoices in that day meaning

 'Paid in Full!.'

 Jesus was shouting 'The debt is paid in full.'"

Jesus has paid the price. All that's needed to be done has been done for us to be more than conquerors.

Now it is up to us to pray the prayers that let these victories be loosed. We are God's hands and feet. He wants to use us. 

Pay very close attention to this scripture--it seems as though I usually dwell on verse 17 the most but look at what it says in verse 18-- 

2 Corinthians 5:17,18 17 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! 18 All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: 

God reconciled himself to us through Jesus 

He has given US the ministry of reconciliation.

When we intercede for people we pray for a "meeting" between God and this person--this meeting provides the opportunity for them to be reconciled. 

Once again, Jesus did all the work--we pray to release His works. 

You've heard of prayer meetings--think of the "she bear" again and that meeting-- Prayer meetings were aptly named. 

Every time I pray and ask God to "meet" with me, I will imagine 

HIS righteousness meeting my sin head on, 

His mercy meeting what judgment I deserve, 

His light meeting satan's darkness that tries to overtake me, 

His humility meeting my pride, 

His love meeting my hate, 

His life meeting my certain death without him. 

I speak of spiritual death here. 

I will never be able to pray "meet with me" again without expecting a collision of the highest sorts, 

A collision that will release the victory that has already been won for us. 

I know sometimes God's answers come right away and sometimes they take years. 

I don't care how long it takes, 

I will pray and not give up 

for the certain victories that I know 

have already been appropriated in heaven. 

I will not give up on any situation in my family. 

I will not give up on the salvation or victorious living of any one of the precious ones for whom I pray. 

I will pray. I will intercede. And there will be a meeting!

Love and faithfulness meet together; 

righteousness and peace kiss each other. Psalm 85:10 

Thank you Lord for sealing the greatest meeting of all with a kiss. 

Through Jesus Christ's sacrifice for our righteousness, we have peace with Him. 

Now His righteousness and my peace can kiss-- 

And it is so sweet-- This sealing of our meeting with a kiss.  

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© ALL ART, PHOTOGRAPHS AND TEXT PROPERTY OF ELIZABETH DIANNE UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 2008-2026

MOTHER WAS A "HUMMER"

My mother was a hummer.

No matter what she was doing, she hummed — and it was almost always hymns filled with joy and truth.

If she was hanging clothes on the line, she hummed.
If she was cooking, she hummed.
If she was sewing, she hummed.
If she was cleaning fish after my daddy had an especially good day at the fishing hole, she hummed.

I remember one of my college friends who spent quite a bit of time at our house. Mother’s constant humming nearly drove her crazy. One day she finally said to me, “Can’t you shut her up?”

But I didn’t want to shut her up. I loved it.

The interesting thing is, this all began after she came to know Jesus as her Savior.

I knew my mother before Christ changed her, and I knew her afterward.

Before, she was unsure of herself. She had been forced to quit school in the ninth grade because of a long illness, and I think that deeply affected her confidence. She was sweet, kind-hearted, and loving, but fearful too — lacking that deep-down joy and peace.

She accepted Christ when I was five years old, and even at that young age, I noticed the difference immediately.

From that day forward until I left home to marry, I never saw her lose her temper. I never knew her to be afraid — not even of the devil himself. There was a steadiness about her, a quiet joy that stayed with her no matter what life brought.

And she hummed.

I started thinking about all of this the other day because I realized something about myself.

I am a hummer too. Sometimes a singer. But somewhere over the last few years, the humming had gone silent.

Life has a way of doing that if we let it.

At my age, challenges seem to come daily, and they certainly do not lessen as the years go by. But when I realized the song in my heart had grown quiet, I didn’t like it.

I have a dear friend of over fifty years who has walked beside me through some hard seasons. Every time another burden would arise, she would gently remind me:

“Don’t forget to sing.”

Lately, my humming has returned.

I catch myself singing the same lines over and over again — almost as though I am singing them until my heart fully believes them.

“I’ve never seen the righteous forsaken or His seed begging bread.”

The other day, I must have sung that phrase a hundred times.

Then there are the old hymns:

“Tell me the old, old story.
Write on my heart every word.
Tell me the story most precious,
Sweetest that ever was heard.”

But the song that has settled deepest into my spirit lately is Praise the Lord.

Especially these words:

“Praise the Lord,
He can work through those who praise Him.
Praise the Lord,
For our God inhabits praise.”

How true that is.

The enemy wants us defeated. He wants us fearful, discouraged, and silent. He wants us to forget who we belong to.

But we are children of the King.

And sometimes the greatest act of faith is simply to praise God while standing in the middle of the battle.

Jesus Himself told us:

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart — I have overcome the world.”

So today, if life has knocked the breath out of you… if you feel overwhelmed, frightened, weary, or unsure how you will make it through what you are facing, may I encourage you to do what my mother did?

Sing.

Hum.

Praise the Lord anyway.

Because praise does something powerful inside the heart of a believer. It lifts our eyes above our fears and reminds us that God is still faithful, still present, and still worthy.

And somehow, when we praise Him, the chains lose their power.

I hope you sing today.

© ALL ART, PHOTOGRAPHS AND TEXT PROPERTY OF ELIZABETH DIANNE UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 2008-2026

AND ALL THE TATERS UNDER THOSE HILLS

My pastor preached the house down this past Sunday. So, so good--encouraging, uplifting, faith-building, God-glorifying--He always makes me think which I love but he made me smile, reminisce and think when he said "God owns the cattle on a thousand hills and all the taters under those hills. 

 It took me back to the late 1940's--to a simpler time--a time when my aunt and I (she was 5 months younger than I) would go behind my grandfather (her father) and pick up potatoes that he had unearthed with his trusty ole mule and plow.

I remember his booming voice when he would yell instructions to the mule--"gee" and "haw" meant right and left.  Many of the working mules in those days understood these vocal instructions and would turn the right way at the end of a row with barely a tug on the lines.  

From an article I read:

"Instead of pulling hard on reins, 

experienced farmers often guided the animal mostly with their voice.

A well-trained mule knew those commands so well that it could turn almost automatically.

The words themselves are centuries old — 

farmers in both United States and United Kingdom 

used them long before tractors became common." 

My grandfather’s mule obeyed so willingly that it reminded me of Psalm 32:9:

“Do not be like the horse or the mule,
which have no understanding
but must be controlled by bit and bridle...”

The picture is of an animal that must be pulled and forced instead of willingly responding to its master. 

I cannot help but wonder if that is how God desires to guide me. Do I respond willingly to His gentle nudges and quiet leading, or does He sometimes have to pull the reins a little tighter to get my attention? Something worth thinking about.

As Christians, the Lord longs to lead us with love, wisdom, and gentle direction. The closer we walk with Him, the more sensitive we become to His voice. 

Obedience born out of trust is always sweeter than obedience forced by struggle. 

Perhaps one of the marks of spiritual maturity is learning to follow His leading willingly, quickly, and with a trusting heart.

Perhaps that is part of the lesson hidden in ‘all the taters under those hills.’ 

So much of what God is doing in our lives is underground work — unseen growth, hidden provision, quiet transformation. 

The mule did not have to understand the whole field; it simply learned to trust the voice guiding it row by row. 

Maybe obedience is often like that for us. 

We may not always see what God is growing beneath the surface, but we can trust the One leading us.

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© ALL ART, PHOTOGRAPHS AND TEXT PROPERTY OF ELIZABETH DIANNE UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 2008-2026