Don't drink the water

I have to confess that for the first time ever I attempted to go shopping on Black Friday. It was 11:30 Thanksgiving night, and I had made the mistake of reading the store ads in the paper that day. Toys R Us had a great deal on a gift that I hadn't even known I needed until I read the ad. The sale started at midnight, so I decided to go check it out. It took me 15 minutes to exit the highway because the cars were so backed up. When I got there, there was a line stretching behind the store down through the parking lots of the next few stores for at least half a mile. It was 12:15 am. It was cold. The line was moving slowly because the store was already full and we had to wait for people to leave before more people could go in. I know there were people there, because I remember seeing bodies, but I never really looked at anyone. I looked through the window at the toys, then down the road at the line, then walked back to my car thinking what fools these people were for waiting in that long, cold line in the middle of the night. I went home and went to bed, then went back to the store at 7 am only to find that the toy I was seeking was sold out. So many people were in the aisles that I could barely move, but I didn't love any of them. I actually thought about loving them, but decided to look for my toy instead. I finally left empty-handed.

Jesus was thirsty from a long, hard day. He sat at a well, but had nothing to draw water with. He asked a woman for water. You probably know the story. She was shocked that he was breaking all cultural rules to speak to her. He struck up a conversation about living water, and before long he had convinced her and the whole town to believe that he had come from heaven to save them.

Tonight as I read that story to my kids I had to stop. I only got a few verses into it when I was overcome. Jesus was really thirsty. He really wanted water. He wasn't just trying to find a way to start a conversation about himself. He wanted a drink. As far as we can tell from the Bible, the woman never did get Jesus that cup of water. He talked and talked to this woman, and eventually even talked to her friends, and never again asked for a drink. If I had been in the role of Jesus in that situation, I would probably have cut her off after the first question and said something like, "How about you get me a drink, then I'll tell you why I'm not afraid to talk to a Samaritan woman."

Lately, more than usual, I have been mission-minded. Not the good kind of mission-minded where I spend my life trying to love people to Jesus, but the bad kind of mission-minded--the kind of mission where I want what I want and I won't slow down until I get it. The silly thing is that it doesn't seem to matter what the mission is. Sometimes it's getting my work done so I can get home to the family. Other times it's searching the store shelves looking for the toy or gadget or Christmas lights that I want to buy. Often it's obsessively searching the internet to find the lowest price in the universe on some gift that I'm sure must be a dollar or two cheaper somewhere out there. Lately I've even been analyzing coupons at the checkout stand, so that I don't even notice the person I'm standing in front of. Saving 40 cents on a loaf of bread instead of saving a lost soul from an eternity in hell. Yikes! If it had been up to me, the woman at the well would probably be on her 7th or 8th husband, and I'd still be trying to get her to give me a bigger cup of water.

Jesus, help me. I deeply admire you. Please make me like you. Cause me to love people so much that I'm willing to go without my cup of water--to leave my "mission" unaccomplished. Please change my mission to make it the same as your mission, no matter where I am. Especially during this season that seems to pull me so strongly toward wanting and getting, please open my eyes to the people right in front of me. You know I love a good deal. Please overcome my love for a good deal with your love for people. I want to honor you this month.