Almost every morning for the past few weeks I've been able to sit down at the bar in mom's kitchen with a hot cup of tea. I've claimed the bar as my own since I've been home. My Bible, computer, phone, headphones, journal, and numerous dirty mugs cover the area. Oh, and pens. Lots of pens. I need to use a different color everyday, even if it's just switching back and forth from blue to black.
Today was black.
When I first read this, my heart jumped in my chest. There's something so incredibly amazing about what these people were saying. The Samaritan woman had been telling the people of her town about Jesus: who he was, what he looked like, what he did. But something happened. Something changed. They met him for themselves and everything was different. Their concept of Jesus no longer went through the eyes of the Samaritan, but they saw with their own wide-open eyes. He wasn't just a story they heard on the street. He was there, in front of them, and real.
