Being a woman isn’t always the easiest.

I can’t explain to you how many times I’ve cried over the past year when a job interview fell through, or a relationship faced obstacles out of my control. I’ve learned valuable lessons. About pain. And suffering. About how all our desires were meant to be satisfied by Christ alone.

Yet, there was a nagging question running through my thoughts, confronting me lately. Maybe it was the Enemy. Or maybe just my vivid imagination. But on Christmas I couldn’t shove away the despair and frustrations pounding in my heart.

Why couldn’t I recall a place that Jesus talked about relationships? Or about the desires of our hearts? Why couldn’t I remember my Savior’s words, reminding me of who I am despite all the ways I’ve failed others? And the ways they’ve failed me? Does He see my desires and hopes? Is hope something people made up just to make themselves feel better?

I refuse to believe that.

But the awesome thing about Jesus is that He calls me while I’m still thirsty. And trying to find fulfillment in a man or a career. Seeking after attention and approval like it’s my job description. He sees where I’m still searching, still seeking, desperate, empty and frustrated. Thirsty.

Like he did with the Samaritan woman in John 4.

Jesus tells her that He has come as her Messiah, the One who will satisfy and save her. He offers water that won’t run out. He accepts her, draws her in, and in the whole conversation she comes to realize that He knows. About her five husbands and the man she’s living with. About the rejection she’s faced from her peers. About her loneliness and thirst for something or someone who will finally meet her desires. Nothing about her past is hidden from Him. Unlike all of the men she’d been with, Jesus fully knew her and loved her unconditionally, with a love that would satisfy and fulfill.

I love how in this season of thirst and brokenness and desperation, Jesus found her.

The part that struck me too, was the purpose that now flooded her life. She goes out into her town and tells the people: (John 4:39): “He told me all that I ever did.” Through this one woman’s testimony, many came to Christ as a result. He gives us a new purpose, a life of hope that we couldn’t have seen coming.




My conscience twisted as the music played. I shoved at the tears as I realized the depths I had reached. The thoughts that had been spilling in didn’t seem to belong to me. Yet they did. When I heard the words and read them, I knew. 

I knew He saw and He felt it too. I knew He heard. I was living in darkness. When people talk about valleys and shadows and deserts I wonder if they had felt what I had felt. This desperate longing to be full. A gnawing ache that nothing could quench. It was a thirst. A need. And my heart cried for it. 

You couldn’t tell by looking at my life. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve. I wear heels and dresses and makeup to disguise it. It’s so smart, right? But the bitterness in my soul laughs.i won’t admit it. I’ll pull a smile and tell a joke but really I’ll want to tell you I need something. Please tell me. Tell me that I need Him. Tell me it’s not too late, that salvation is near. I might laugh and maybe scorn you, but later I’ll be crying out, gnashing my teeth bitterly. And you were there the whole time. You knew what I needed. 

You owe me hope. You owe me your joy. It’s real I know it is. Please tell me.