When Women Pray by T. D. Jakes

Author:T. D. Jakes [JAKES, T. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: FaithWords
Published: 2020-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 6

The Samaritan Woman

When women pray, they are quenched of their thirst.

It was the heat she hated most.

Yes, the jar was heavy, especially once it was filled with water. But she was getting stronger. She was beginning to feel the weight less. A little, anyway. And yes, the journey was long. After three or four trips she walked with a limp the rest of the day because of the pain in her feet, but that was manageable. A small price.

But the heat was different. The full weight of the sun pressing down on her—baking down on her—was a heavy burden. Heavier than the water. The intensity of the light stung her eyes going one direction and seared her neck and shoulders going back. Taken together, the whole experience was beginning to feel unbearable.

No, she thought. It is not unbearable, because I know I will continue to bear it.

The other women drew their water together in the cool of the morning. They chatted as they walked, exchanging pleasantries and the latest gossip while the sun was just beginning to peek out over the mountains. They worked together to pull the heavy jars up from the bottom of the well, dripping and sloshing as they pulled the rope, so that no one was overwhelmed by the load.

She used to join them, but no longer. She grew tired of the knowing looks they passed back and forth whenever they mentioned their husbands. With every cutting comment—such sweetness and sharpness from so many tongues—her fury had grown, threatening to overflow like one of their jars. “I saw your second husband at the market yesterday—or was it your third?” “I know Rachel wanted to invite you to her wedding, dear, but she thought you might be uncomfortable.”

That had become unbearable. Truly unbearable.

She relished the quiet in the middle of the day. No other women. No one to help her, that was true, but no one to confront her, either. No one to offer rebuke and rejection under the pretense of kindness.

Still, she cursed the heat.

Several hundred yards from the well, she stopped. Someone was sitting on it. Resting. Waiting? Will they give me no peace? she thought. Have they left someone to stab at me even now in the heat of the day?

But no. As she drew closer, she realized the person sitting was too large to be a woman. Too thick. Too strong. It was a man.

But why would a man be here? she thought. And why now?

What could he possibly want?

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