THAT’S WHY JESUS HAD TO PASS THROUGH SAMARIA

Jesus and the woman at the well

The Samaritan was void and empty despite being heavy and full.
It was another Sunday to find an excuse as to why she wasn’t attending church. Mostly, she woke up, concluded she hasn’t found a spiritual home worthy enough to nourish her, and go back to sleep right after.
In other instances, she was sick, well just mild fatigue from Insomnia but it counted as an excuse didn’t it?
This time, however, her sickness led her back to the cross. She was ill, her heart was ailing. Not once had she thought of requesting her doctor to prescribe her another dose of Xanax, since the first time they would knock her, her insomnia, and her brain right to sleep, into darkness, into limbo. She failed to consider one thing though, Xanax is only for the night, pain comes in the morning.
This particular Sunday, however, her tears woke her up. At first she was losing it, but now she had lost it.
Void, empty, that’s what she was.
The Samaritan cleaned her temple, where due to negligence the tenant, who was the Holiest of Spirits, fled. She wore pink, a bright color to distract any prying eyes from staring into her dull ones, and maybe seeing her empty soul. A thought crossed her mind, and she obeyed it and bought a new handkerchief.
She strode into church, and sat by the wall. The first two songs that were sang were barely familiar to her. She took that as her cue to contemplate walking out.  She broke down instead.  She took out her new handkerchief, and sobbed into it. Around her everyone was staring, but the Samaritan was too tired to care. She laid herself bare, all she wanted was an ease of her baggage. She no longer wanted control. She was unworthy, insignificant, minuscule, inconsequential; or so she thought. She had tried to quench her unending thirst for comfort, love, significance, to no avail. But at her lowest, with over 400 people around her, Jesus spoke to the Samaritan. He had seen her suffering, her quest to quench, and asked to trade her sorrows and baggage in return for ultimate contentment, and she did.
She surrendered all. No one understood her sobbing, but only Jesus, the Samaritan and the handkerchief know the story. 
She still couldn’t understand why He chose her. With a smile, and the softest, calmest and surest of voices, Jesus reminded her He passed through Samaria for her, and would do it all over again without fail, without doubt, only with love.
And in Samaria, by the well, the Samaritan was quenched, and made whole.
She folded neatly folded her handkerchief, and kept it as a reminder that no matter what, she was redeemed, and assuaged.
She came in with a heart struggling to beat, a heart heavy it sank to the pit of her stomach and left with a heart beating to the sound of the drums and tongues spoken.
She was rebranded at the well.
She was light and free.
She was the Samaritan.