For centuries, the Samaritan woman at the well has been read as a scandal. But if you take a closer look at the text, something shifts. Historical context and scholarship reveal that she was far more likely a survivor than a sinner — and reading her through a Western lens has distorted the story. The real story is far more compelling — and it tells us everything about the heart of Jesus.

Three women. All named Mary. All present at the moments that changed everything. We tend to blur them together, or worse, reduce them to a single supporting role in a story we think belongs to someone else. But their stories are among the most dramatic of Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection—and definitely worth revisiting.

What if art and history know the Samaritan Woman’s name? What if her story is far more complex, more beautiful, and more dignified than the one most of us were taught? And what if we've been reading her wrong all along?

REFLECTION BY CHRISTINE CRAWFORD ON THE CHOSEN: Darkness and light have always coexisted. That doesn't make the light less. It actually makes it more. Jesus didn't look away from the dark. He walked into it. He wept in it and over it. He let it be what it was before He did what only He could do.

POEM + REFLECTION BY CHRISTINE M. CRAWFORD: On a rainy Sunday in April, I found myself at the big box store staring at a flat of begonias that nobody wanted. Orphaned, root-bound, reduced to a dollar a pot. I bought all of them, resurrected them, then wrote this poem with dirt still wedged under my fingernails.

BY MARY DEMUTH:

To surrender the healing journey is to let go of the expectations for how the pathway will look. It means looking realistically at what happened back then, then giving God permission to do something new.

BY MARY DEMUTH:

With anxiety reigning, it’s no wonder we believe if that one conundrum was solved, our lives would sing. And yet, our minds naively hang our hopes on an outcome, and we forget that God is working in and through every circumstance, even when things don’t go the way we wanted or planned.

ART + REFLECTION BY SOFIA RECTOR: It takes chosen silence—solitude—to trace the shape of a tree, to follow the movement of its growth

ART + REFLECTION BY SOFIA RECTOR: You give me a picture that signifies flowers, with bold lines that don't waver, uncompromising angles, controlled geometries, And I point, saying with you, "Flowers."

REFLECTION BY CHRISTINE CRAWFORD: What if our hurts, questions, and doubts are the very thresholds where we are most tenderly met, deeply known, carefully held, gently stretched, and finally made whole?

ART + REFLECTION BY SOFIA RECTOR: Leaves fall in the late autumn to reveal bare branches--but also hope: furry buds tightly curled, awaiting spring warmth.

DRAW NEAR DWELL WELL PLAYLIST: A cross-genre collection to calm anxiety and inspire connection with God.

I remember, too, the sunrise. The miracleof dawn just when I deemed myselfdestined to dwell darkened forever

REFLECTION BY JENNIFER CAMP: It might be time to let go. It might be time to empty your hands. It might be time to stop grasping.

A POETIC REFLECTIONOnce we separate God from our own misconceptions and stop trying to confine him to our own categories, he is bound to surprise us, guaranteed to challenge us, and certain to change us.

WE WANNA READ YOUR POETRY: Poet Rachel Joy Welcher provides 3 poetry prompts and invites you to share your work

POEM BY RACHEL JOY WELCHER: When will you realize, oh my soul, that there will always be a child born on the same day that someone else dies?

POEM BY RACHEL JOY WELCHER: Do not wait to rejoice. Do not wait to enjoy. Do not save and save and forget to spend yourself...

POEM BY RACHEL JOY WELCHER: You bring the dog with you when you think I'm sad.

POEM BY RACHEL JOY WELCHER: What would an honest poem about marriage look like?