On the Samaritan

When she told them that He had told her
“Everything she had ever done”~
I’ve always assumed that was all the bad things
–five husbands and all–
But, “everything” includes more, does it not?

Maybe He also told her all of the beautiful things she had done,
All the selfless ways
She brightened the world of
Animals or outcasts
Or the time she made baklava, a favorite,
On her one lover’s birthday;
Or the time she found a yellow bird who flew into a wall and was dying,
And she held it and sang to it until it was gone.

If He told her all the beautiful things, she would know:
He didn’t just define her as “fallen” and move on like so many others.
Rather, He saw the fullness of who she was
And He insisted the fullness–both good and bad–was still worth loving.

And if He told her all the worst things as well,
Things the townspeople gossiped about,
And things so dark that they’d never imagine,
But He still wanted her to have the life-giving water,
Well, then…I’d fall for Him, too,
This man who recklessly looks beyond fault
Just so we all might know love
A little deeper
Like the deep
Of a well
In Samaria.


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