There is something about the story of the Samaritan woman that I keep coming back to.

Jesus knew where He was going.

He knew Samaria.

He knew the woman He would meet there.

He knew her story before she ever stood at that well.

And still, He went.

He didn’t meet her by accident.

He wasn’t surprised by her past.

He wasn’t discovering her story as she told it to Him.

He already knew.

And perhaps that is one of the most beautiful things about this encounter.

Jesus knew her completely, yet He still sought her.

He knew the things she probably wished no one knew.

He knew the husbands.

He knew the disappointments.

He knew the life she had lived.

And He didn’t use that knowledge to shame her.

He used it to show her that she was seen.

Then He offered her something no relationship, no accomplishment, and no change in circumstances could ever give her.

Living water.

A life that would no longer leave her searching for something to fill what only God could fill.

I wonder what it must have felt like to be that woman.

To have someone know everything about you and still choose to sit with you.

To be known without being rejected.

To be confronted with the truth without being condemned by it.

To discover that the One who knew your whole story had sought you out anyway.

Maybe that is where our own calling begins.

Before we can tell people about Jesus, we have to allow ourselves to truly know Jesus.

And to allow Him to truly know us.

Not the version of ourselves we present to everyone else.

The real one.

Because perhaps one of the greatest challenges facing the church today isn’t simply finding the next generation.

It’s becoming the kind of people the next generation can look at and see something worth following.

We can tell them about grace.

But do they see grace in us?

We can talk about forgiveness.

But have they seen us forgive?

We can tell them that Jesus changes lives.

But can they see that He has changed ours?

We can tell them that God is love.

But do they experience love when they encounter us?

That is a much harder question.

And perhaps it is one we need to ask ourselves before we become so concerned about reaching everyone else.

Because the next generation doesn’t only need another message.

They need people who have been changed by the message.

People who are willing to look honestly at themselves and say, There are still things in me that Jesus needs to change.

People who aren’t afraid to grow.

To repent.

To apologize.

To become softer where life has made them hard.

To become more patient.

More compassionate.

More willing to listen.

More like Christ.

Not perfect people.

Real people.

People who can say, I don’t have everything figured out, but I know the One who changed me.

Maybe that is what it means to seek the next generation.

Not simply to go looking for them and tell them what they should believe.

But to become people who carry something they desperately need to see.

A living faith.

A faith that has survived disappointment.

A faith that has learned forgiveness.

A faith that doesn’t merely speak about Jesus but looks a little more like Him.

The Samaritan woman did not leave that encounter with a theological degree.

She left having encountered Someone who knew her completely and still offered her living water.

And she went back to her people.

She told them what had happened.

She invited them to come and see.

Perhaps that is where we sometimes make things more complicated than they need to be.

We don’t have to know everything.

We simply have to know Him.

And perhaps before we ask God to use us to reach someone else, we should quietly ask Him to continue changing us.

Because there may be someone in the next generation who doesn’t need another person telling them about Jesus.

They may need someone who has actually allowed Jesus to change the way they live.

Someone who will seek them out.

Someone who will sit with them.

Someone who will see them without immediately judging them.

Someone who can look at them and say, in the simplest way:

“I know a Savior who knows everything about you… and still came looking for you.”

Maybe that is the kind of people we are being called to become.

Not people who simply point others toward Jesus.

But people whose lives make them curious enough to ask,

“What is it about you?”

And then we can tell them.

“Come and see.”

Until next time,