I’ve carried pain that was carved by the very faith that once promised to heal me. Not pain from doubt, but pain from being told, over and over, that I was unworthy of love, of grace, of belonging.
And yet, the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman has stayed with me all my life. He didn’t shame her. He didn’t preach at her. He saw her.
That’s what I’m asking for now, not theology, not agreement, just this:
If I opened the door and told you who I am, would you look at me like Jesus looked at her… or like those who once destroyed my soul?
https://juavanzyl.vivaldi.net/2025/06/16/room-at-the-well/
#RoomAtTheWell, #FaithAndCompassion, #SpiritualHealing, #SeenByGrace, #ChristianLove, #StoryOfTheSamaritanWoman, #OpenHeartedFaith, #ReligiousTraumaHealing, #ChooseCompassion, #LivingWaterForAll #JCvZ
!["Many of the details are preserved to us [in Amos]. Innocent debtors were bought and sold as slaves, even for the sake of possessing a pair of costly sandals. The very dust which they threw on their heads as a sign of mourning was grudged to them. The large cloaks which were their only wrappers were used for the couches of the hard-hear-ted creditors. Strict as was still the profession of religion... yet even in the very Temple of Bethel the luxurious listless revelry was carried on"](https://files.mastodon.social/media_attachments/files/113/319/550/913/835/616/original/25baf40718e19046.png)
