Poetry and music are such a gift.  I love the way it communicates from the heart and expresses real human emotion that, while unique to the individual, is also common to humankind.   That is why I love the Psalms so much.  The Psalmists shared with us the heights and depths of what it means to know, love and experience God in every day life.  We may not experience the same circumstances or trials that they did but we relate to their cries of the heart as they give voice to what our own hearts feel.  The following reflection is my own adaption of Psalm 127.. 

Watching You, Watching me

When I am alone, afraid and downcast
Where can I go for help?
Where can I run for protection;
to be known, loved, accepted?

I raise my eyes to the heavens;
To my Creator, the Maker of heaven and earth.
I look to the Lord, my Forever;
To the One who never sleeps 
and whose eyes are looking at me.

You are my Shelter;
The Protector of my life.
I will not be afraid 
for I am watching you, 
and you're watching me.
 
 
The sun beats down.  The ground is hot and parched and so am I.  I head out to the well in the heat of the day to avoid bumping into anyone.  I hate the way people stare and whisper as I walk by.  They have no idea of the pain of my loss and the burdens I carry every day.   

As I approach the well and prepare to draw water, I notice a man walking this way.  My heart sinks.  I can see he is a Jew.  I prepare myself for a serve of judgement and shame.  To my surprise he asks me for water.   Doesn’t he realise who I am?  “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman.  How can you ask me for a drink?”  I wait for the look of horror on his face as he hears my response... but there is nothing, not a grimace, not a flinch.  He begins talking about some kind of living water and how I should be asking him for water.  I’m curious.  Who is this man and what is he talking about?  He doesn’t even have anything to draw with.  This water he speaks of does sound wonderful though.  I carry my ‘burden’ every day to and from this well.  I thirst, Oh how I thirst.  Water of life that bubbles up and overflows into eternal life; that sounds like something I would like to have.  “Sir, give me this water you speak of so I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.”

I get the feeling he’s talking about a different kind of water.  I see the way he looks at me; lovingly; gently; knowingly.  Then he reveals a hidden truth about me.  How can he know these things?  Seeing every scar, every burden, every struggle, he pursues me with kindly eyes.  He sees me and yet doesn’t judge me.  He knows me and yet accepts me.  I have to find out who this man is.  “I see you are a prophet”.  I am captivated by his response as he speaks of the Messiah and of a time when worshippers will worship in spirit and in truth.  Then he declares “I who speak to you am he.”  My water jar falls to the ground and I am overwhelmed with joy.  Surely this is the Christ.  I must tell the others.

What is in your jar?  What are the burdens that you carry every day and try to hide from others?  Bring your jar to the Well of Living water.  Let Him who sees into the deepest part of your being and who knows everything that you ever did; let Him fill you with the water that heals, forgives, restores, liberates and wells up into eternal life.