Don’t Hide Your Shame; It’s Part of Your Significance

What happened when a Samaritan woman encountered Jesus

Too often we hide our shame. Cover it and pretend it does not exist. But this does not work; our shame follows us wherever we go. Jesus shows us a different way. He makes our shame part of our significance. He has done this before and can do it again.

The woman at the well

It was hot, noon and there was little shelter. Jesus was tired and hungry. Mouth cracked and dry, he had not drunk for hours. He saw a well and sat by it. Having nothing to fetch with, he waited, hoping for someone to come along.

In time, a woman from Samaria came along, and he asked her for a drink. She didn’t say no, but neither did she give him water. Instead, she asked questions. (What’s so difficult about giving him a drink?, I wonder as I read.)

Questions went back and forth between Jesus and the woman, and she ended up asking him for a drink. (How vexing. He was the thirsty one; he asked for a drink first. She turned it into an answer rally, and then ended up asking for water!)

“Sir,” she said, “give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.” (John 4:15, author paraphrase)

Jesus looked at her. He had been telling her about a certain type of water, living water, which he alone could give. He enticed her with words:

“If you drank my water,” he said, “you would not thirst again. This water will be a spring of eternal life in you.” (John 4:13-14 author paraphrase)

Why did she yearn for this water? Did she understand the spiritual significance?

I don’t think so.

The watering well in New Testament times was a place of gathering. Young women came to the well at sundown and chatted. Friendships were made, mutual support given. There was laughter, an exchange of stories, recipes, gossip and chatter. Arriving in the middle of the day, when the sun was unbearably hot, it was evident even to a stranger that the woman was avoiding the crowds.

In view of this, her plea was painfully real. “I don’t want to be seen at the well,” she was saying. “I am not accepted here. I don’t belong, I can’t do this any longer. Give me your water!”

But as she cried out, thirsting for this water, he changed the track of this conversation in a most interesting way.

“Go and call your husband,” he said. (John 4:16, author paraphrase)

“I have no husband,” she said. (John 4:17, author paraphrase)

Her shoulder drooped. You could see the fire dim from her previously fiery spirit. He had hit a nerve. But he was not finished yet.

“Yes,” he exclaimed, “you have had five husbands. And the man you are living with now is not even your husband That is why you come here alone at the hottest time of the day, when all the women are indoors, sheltering from the fierce heat of the sun.” (John 4:18, author paraphrase)

The mystery of five husbands

The Bible does not fill in the gaps in the story, so here I indulge with a fictional background. Let’s enjoy the imagination God has blessed us with.

Tolu — husband number one — was an arranged marriage by her parents when she was 14. He was 48. She hated him on sight, and he died 7 years after. She had no children, so was not given an inheritance in his compound.

Deji, husband number two, was a vagabond. Tolu’s junior cousin, aged 32. He was a thief, good for nothing. Since she had no child, she had to marry from her husband's family. He died a year later. No child. She runs away to a far village. The story turns.

Hassan, husband number three, fell in love with her. She was 22, ebony dark skin, flat nose, full eyes and full lips. She was stunning. Hassan disregarded the counsel of his people and married her without a background check. Two years later, the family discovered her shame and plotted to kill her with a poisoned meal (crabs). Our dutiful heroine would not eat alone, and she served the meal from the in-laws to her husband when he came in tired from the field. He died, and consumed with guilt, she ran into the wilderness.

Oteri, husband number four met her when she was 30. She tricked him into marriage by pretending she was pregnant, and they returned to his home — which happened to be her original village. She was recognised. The story came out. He killed himself. She was thrown out of town and cursed.

Kasim, husband number five, a stranger, came into town. They married after a drunken session in Las Vegas — he left her the next day. “Never again,” she said. But she was rich.

But reality is stranger than fiction, and she has had five husbands. There was more!

She built a lovely house on the outskirts of town — where married men, tired of their homes, came to rest awhile. It was a service in demand. The men simply made up an excuse of travelling — and spent a few weeks with her. Currently, Chi Obiora, the Mayor is in her house.

None of the above is true. I made up fictional stories about her husbands.

“Go and call your husband?” That was a laugh. No decent man or woman or child would be seen with her. Was Jesus being mean? Surely, he knew her story when he asked her about her husband.

Bring your deepest shame

Jesus wanted her shame. You see, she had lived with her shame for too long. Avoiding social gatherings, walking with her head bowed.

As human beings, we tend to hide our shame, we cover it with respectability, with routine, with cliches. We avoid those who know our shame, but we have no choice but to carry it with us wherever we go.

Jesus confronted her shame. She wanted a quick-fix solution. “Give me living water, so I can hide in my house, so I do not have to face those who laugh at me.”

Instead, he said, “Bring your shame out in the open.” He went straight into the mess. with a commanding authority.

Modern counselling and inspirational speakers would be aghast.

“Go back,” he said, “search for your deepest shame, your pain. Drag it out of darkness, where it is hidden. Bring it out into the open. Bring it kicking and screaming. Drag it through the streets. Expose it. Risk everything — even your life, the little respect you have. Risk it all, to bring it to me. Go and call your husband.”

Five words that forced her to reveal her shame.

I know Jesus. He can send healing with his words. He brings calm with his hands. He walks into death and leaves life.

He could have comforted, encouraged, inspired, forgiven, cleansed. He could have. Instead, he brought her face to face with her deepest shame.

An unexpected twist

What happened next was odd. After forcing her hand in revealing her shame, he does not address it. In fact, the story of her husbands ends. The discussion shifts and centres on him. Jesus moves into the spotlight, revealing himself to the woman, uncovering his significance layer by layer, until he is fully revealed as Christ, the Messiah who was, and is, and is to be.

He told her who He was, and who He was changed everything.

In revealing his significance, he gave her significance. She left her waterpot at the well, ran into town, and proclaimed to anyone who would listen:

“I met a man, and he told me all I ever did. He knew about my five husbands. He knows that the man I live with now is not my husband. Come and meet a prophet.” (John 4:29, author paraphrase)

Covered by his significance, her shame melted into insignificance.

Jesus invites us to bring the darkest parts of who we are. He asks for our sin and takes it without judgement. As He reveals who he is, all our mess pales into insignificance until we can walk, head held high, in his significance.

He prepares a table for us in the presence of our enemies (Psalm 23:5 author paraphrase).

In the place where you were laughed at, before people that mocked you. Jesus shines through us.

It happened when a Samaritan woman encountered Jesus Christ; it still happens today.

Don’t hide your shame, it is part of your significance.