Have you ever felt disqualified because of who you are? Or maybe unqualified because of who you aren’t?

I’ve felt both! There’s a real struggle between feeling like you’re too much but also not enough. (Jess Connolly & Hayley Morgan have a great devotional on this called Always Enough, Never Too Much.)

At Life Group this week, we talked briefly about the woman at the well. She was constantly searching for someone or something to fill the void within her.

In John 4, Jesus is tired and thirsty. When this unnamed woman comes to well, he asks her a simple question: “Will you give me a drink?”

She’s taken aback; why is this man, a Jew, even talking to her, a Samaritan and a woman?

The conversation continues, deepening with each exchange.

The woman ends up telling Jesus to give her some of this living water, this satisfying water that will quench her thirst. Meet her needs. Make a way so that she doesn’t have to come to the well in the heat of the day just to avoid everyone. Something to mend the heartache. Remove the shame. Fill the void.

Then He tells her to do the impossible: to go get her husband.

He already knew her story. He knew that she had five husbands, not including the man waiting at home for her.

If He knew, why did He ask?

I wonder if maybe Jesus wanted to assure her that she wasn’t unqualified or disqualified from receiving this gift of living water.

Her religion, her ethnicity, her gender – Jesus wasn’t concerned with who she wasn’t. She wasn’t unqualified because of her identity; she wasn’t unworthy of time and space with Him.

And her multiple divorces, her lifestyle, her sin, her choices, and all the things that had happened to her… none of it disqualified her. None of it was too much for Jesus.

Maybe He was after her honesty. And her redemption. Maybe she wasn’t a part of the original plan that day. But God allowed for this interaction that led to life change, this encounter that ultimately resulted in evangelism.

It’s a beautiful reminder that Jesus is often waiting for us in those difficult places. The ones where no one else shows up – He’s there. The ones that are covered in shame – He’s present. His loving arms cast out the fear. His patient kindness welcomes our honest vulnerability.

The impossible becomes irrelevant in His presence as we fix our eyes on Him. As we put our trust in Him. As we worship Him in spirit and truth. As we allow Him to fill us up and send us out.

He’s not asking us do what we can’t. He’s asking us to receive from Him and share with others. To love and be loved. To come to the well and leave changed, free, full.

She didn’t let the difficult conversation stop her. She didn’t let the awkwardness silence her. She could have lied. She could have left. She could have missed the Messiah. She had plenty of reasons to feel unqualified or disqualified. But with each exchange, trust and honesty were building something rare and eternal.

The woman at the well was worthy. (And so are you.) Not because of anything she had done, but because of who Jesus was (and is) and what He was about to do.