I never imagined my story would be worth telling but here I am doing just that. Oh don’t be impressed. It wasn’t me and still isn’t.
It’s all Him. It’s all Jesus.
My story became His and He became mine because He came. He met me where I was. He saw me for me.
No one had ever done that before.
They saw my mistakes.
I saw my shame.
And that was identity.
I had lived defined by who I thought I had to be, the boxes I thought I had to stay in, and all the opinions that seemed to matter more than truth.
I didn’t know my worth.
I didn’t know I mattered.
But then Jesus showed up and made my story His own.
He met me at the well.
He saw me…like no one else would.
Right there in my least expecting it.
Right there in my most craving it.
RIght there in my broken and empty chasing.
He told me of a love I didn’t know I needed, one that wouldn’t leave me thirsty again.
He told me all about me.
He knew me...like no one else could.
In an instant, His truth was all that mattered. I would live slave no longer to pitchers that held no water because Jesus made my story His own.
I knew right then.
He loved me...like no one else dared.
I wasn’t an impossibility anymore!
I was seen.
I was known.
I was loved.
And it blew me away.
From the inside out, for the first time ever, I was full. No more broken pottery. I went to the well expecting water and I drew life.
Life!
Can you hear the freedom in that word?
I wonder, do you know it, too?
Hear today my story because this I know. There’s a well for you, too.
Jesus is waiting there with mercy you can’t measure and grace no pitcher can contain.
He is Hope.
He is Freedom.
He is Life.
What you never imagined could be, is.
It is.
HE IS.
And His arms are wide open.
He sees you.
He knows you.
He loves you.
And that’s what matters.
We run to all kinds of places expecting water but Jesus, He gives life. He’s the well springing up straight into eternity.
When you’re His, nothing will ever be the same.
After all…
You can’t be unseen.
You won’t be unknown.
And unloved, well, it’s just not possible with this kind of well.
Jesus is the well that doesn’t run dry.
