Not forgotten

It’s easy to feel forgotten, overlooked, or abandoned in our heart of hearts. Sometimes small things make us feel that way: not being invited to the party or not being acknowledged for a job well done. Sometimes it is much bigger things: extended illness, infertility, or loosing a job. Beyond this exist even heavier things that we shy away from thinking about: poverty, the loss of a loved one or violence. Whether big or small, intentional or unintentional, inflicted by fellow man or allowed by God, these disappointments leave behind varying levels of deep and painful wounds that are often difficult for anyone else to see. 

Our tendency is to guard these wounds carefully and to protect ourselves in any way possible from the pain that they bring. Simultaneously most of us still wish to be noticed and to be known, but our fear of letting down that guard and letting anyone close enough to see our quiet pain or worse touch the pain holds us back. As a result, no one really knows us.......the total us, the real deal. 

In studying the book of John this year along with our fellowship,  I have found it fascinating that John’s record of Jesus’s encounters with individual people touches directly into that reality.

As Jesus travels from place to place and talks to massive crowds of people, John records specific encounters and personal conversations with a fascinatingly diverse and by earthly standards “forgotten” individuals. These divine and unlikely appointments change everything: Niccodemus, the woman at the well, the crippled man, the blind man, the lepers, the woman with the issue of blood, Zacceus, the centurion, the demon posed man, the woman caught in adultery. 

While all of these are fascinating stories of Jesus’s personal redemption of the most marginalized groups in His society, (foreigners, outcasts, diseased, impoverished, political enemies, religious opposition, and people in open sin) the story of the woman at the well continues to captivate me the most. 

John records that Jesus purposely ventured into Samaria (a territory avoided at all costs by Jews at that time) for one of these appointments.  He sat down and engaged a Samaritan woman in a day and age where both of those descriptions would have dictated this to be improper.  Their exchange is a fascinating mixture of a cultural debate and eternal significance. Confused, she points out all that divides them, and Jesus responds by issuing the offer of a lifetime:  eternal life.  Again confused she tries to deflect, but Jesus finally gets her attention by zeroing in on her personal story of brokenness, and he clearly knows all the details.  Her life story is filled with abandon and hurt and she is currently in a bad situation in terms of both social and emotional security.  But Jesus already knew all of that and despite her broken story, and the many cultural differences that should have separated them, He was about to not only save her, but to use her to bring salvation to her village.  She was the most unlikely candidate to share the hope of eternity with her village.  She is at the well alone, at noontime because she is an outcast of her own society.  But after her encounter with the man who knows her deepest pain and her darkest secrets and loves her anyways, she returns to her village completely changed.  She goes back and proclaims life through the story of her brokenness.  She leads her testimony with her brokenness and ends with Jesus.  Her people are intrigued enough to follow her to Jesus and in the end they come to faith.  Her brokenness was really her blessing.  It was her brokenness that opened her heart to see Jesus, and it was her story that brought others to Him.  

It is tempting to believe that our brokenness makes us unattractive to everyone; that if anyone really knew us they would turn and walk away.  But if the gospels tell us anything, they tell us that our brokenness doesn't make us unattractive to Jesus.  He is clear from the beginning that He came FOR the broken, and He didn't just say that.  He proved it again and again by using the most unlikely most obviously broken people to show His power and love.  And finally in the most powerful display of love for the broken, He gave up His life on the cross for all of the broken of all time, offering redemption freely to us all.  

Our own stories of brokenness are often what we want to sweep under the rug, forget, or move past.  But they have the power to bring both ourselves and others to Jesus.  Our brokenness humbles us so we can accept the grace we so desperately need, and it also makes us accessible to others who are desperately looking for hope. So although sometimes our broken stories tempt us to feel that we have been somehow forgotten, the stories of Jesus remind us that perhaps they are an unlikely gift of grace to put us just where we need to be to meet Jesus and point others in His direction.