Commentary - John 4:7-26

Bird's-eye view

In this remarkable encounter, the Lord Jesus Christ deliberately crosses multiple, deeply entrenched social, racial, and religious boundaries to engage a Samaritan woman with the gospel. The setting is Jacob's well, a place freighted with historical significance, but Jesus uses the ordinary props of thirst and water to reveal a spiritual reality of profound depth. He moves the conversation from physical water to the "living water" of the Holy Spirit, from a debate about her marital history to the nature of her sin, and from a dispute over holy mountains to the essence of true worship. The entire exchange is a master class in evangelism, demonstrating how to bypass superficial defenses and address the true thirst of the human heart. It culminates in one of the clearest self-revelations of Jesus as the Messiah in all the Gospels, offered not to the religious elite in Jerusalem, but to a disgraced woman in a despised land.

This passage is central to John's purpose, revealing Jesus as the fulfillment of Old Testament hopes, the one who provides true spiritual satisfaction, and the one who inaugurates a new covenant where worship is defined not by location but by the reality of God the Spirit and the truth of God the Son. He is the true Temple and the true water from the rock, and access to Him is now open to all who will ask, regardless of their lineage or past.

Outline

Context In John

This story follows the account of Jesus' conversation with Nicodemus in chapter 3. The contrast is stark and intentional. Nicodemus was a man, a Jew, a respected religious leader, who came to Jesus by night. This woman is a Samaritan, an outcast, with a sordid moral history, who meets Jesus in the full light of day. Together, these two encounters demonstrate the universal scope of the gospel. It is for the high and the low, the religious and the irreligious, the Jew and the Gentile. Jesus has just declared that one must be "born of water and the Spirit" (John 3:5), and now He offers this woman "living water" that springs up to eternal life. John places this encounter here to show that the new covenant reality Jesus brings is already breaking down the old walls of separation. Jesus "had to pass through Samaria" (John 4:4), not because of geography, but because of a divine appointment that would redefine the people of God.

Key Issues

Evangelism at the Well

The conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman is not simply a heartwarming story; it is a paradigm for all faithful evangelism. Notice the progression. Jesus begins with a point of common ground, a shared human need: thirst. He uses this physical reality to introduce a spiritual one. He creates intrigue, making a statement that demands a question. "If you knew... you would have asked Him." He offers a gift that is infinitely better than what she currently possesses. The world offers a well you have to keep coming back to; Christ offers a well that springs up within you.

But the offer of grace cannot be received by a heart that does not know its need. And so, when she expresses interest on a purely superficial level, wanting the gift for her own convenience, Jesus lovingly puts His finger on the central wound of her life: her history of broken and sinful relationships. This is not a cruel diversion; it is the necessary surgery of the gospel. He must expose her true thirst before she can appreciate the living water. And when she deflects, changing the subject to abstract theology, He answers her question but immediately brings it back to the central issue: the nature of the God she claims to worship. This is how the gospel works. It moves from the common to the cosmic, from the felt need to the real need, and it always leads to the person of Jesus Christ, who finally declares, "I who speak to you am He."

Verse by Verse Commentary

7-9 A woman of Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give Me a drink.” For His disciples had gone away into the city to buy food. Therefore the Samaritan woman said to Him, “How do You, being a Jew, ask for a drink from me, being a Samaritan woman?” (For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans.)

Jesus initiates. He, the source of living water, humbles Himself to ask for a drink. In doing so, He shatters at least three social conventions. A man did not speak to a woman alone in public. A rabbi certainly did not. And most pointedly, a Jew did not associate with a Samaritan, let alone share a drinking vessel, which would have been considered defiling. The woman is immediately struck by this. Her response is not one of gratitude but of suspicion and surprise. She sees everything through the grid of the world's enmities: Jew versus Samaritan. She is putting Him in a box, and her question is a challenge. She is asking what kind of Jew He is to be breaking the rules like this.

10 Jesus answered and said to her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, ‘Give Me a drink,’ you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water.”

Jesus completely reframes the situation. He ignores the racial and political static and goes straight to the spiritual heart of the matter. He presents her with a great hypothetical, an "if/then" statement that turns the tables. The issue is not His thirst, but hers. The problem is her ignorance. There are two things she does not know: the gift of God, which is salvation and eternal life, and who it is who is speaking to her. If she knew these two things, she would instantly recognize her own desperate need and His infinite ability to meet it. The roles would be reversed. She, the needy one, would be begging a drink from Him, the gracious one. This is the fundamental posture of every sinner before Christ.

11-12 She said to Him, “Sir, You have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where then do You get that living water? Are You greater than our father Jacob, who gave us this well, and drank of it himself and his sons and his cattle?”

She is still stuck on the physical plane. She hears "living water" and thinks of fresh spring water, as opposed to the stagnant cistern water. Her response is practical, almost dismissive. "You have no bucket." She points out the logistical problem. Then she moves to the historical problem. This well has a pedigree. It came from Jacob, one of the great patriarchs. Her question, "Are You greater than our father Jacob?" is meant as a rhetorical challenge, but it is the central question of the entire narrative. She has no idea how profoundly true it is. Jacob dug a well that provided temporary relief for a limited number of people. Jesus is the source of an eternal well that can satisfy the souls of all nations.

13-14 Jesus answered and said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will thirst again; but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never thirst, ever; but the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life.”

Jesus now makes the contrast explicit. He uses Jacob's well as a symbol for everything this world has to offer. It is good, it is a gift, but it never finally satisfies. You will always have to come back for more. This is true of water, food, money, relationships, and power. They are all leaky cisterns. But the water Christ gives is entirely different. First, it quenches thirst permanently. "Whoever drinks...will never thirst." Second, it is not an external source but an internal one. It becomes "in him a well of water." The Holy Spirit takes up residence in the believer. Third, its nature is dynamic and life giving, "springing up to eternal life." It is not a stagnant pool but an artesian well, a fountain of divine life bubbling up from within.

15 The woman said to Him, “Sir, give me this water, so I will not be thirsty nor come back here to draw.”

She is intrigued, but she still misunderstands. She hears the promise of "never thirsting" and interprets it as a promise of a more convenient life. She wants the product, the magical water that will save her the daily, laborious trip to the well. This is a picture of so many who come to Christ. They want the benefits of salvation, the fire insurance, the peace of mind, the better life, without truly understanding their sin or desiring the Savior Himself. She wants the gift, but she still does not know the Giver.

16-18 He said to her, “Go, call your husband and come back here.” The woman answered and said, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You have correctly said, ‘I have no husband’; for you had five husbands, and the one you now have is not your husband; this you have said truly.”

This is the brilliant, pastoral turn in the conversation. Jesus knows that to give her the living water, He must first show her the filthiness of the cup she is offering Him. He cannot simply pour the Holy Spirit into a life that is unexamined and unrepentant. So He touches the nerve of her greatest shame and sorrow. His command to call her husband is a diagnostic tool. Her reply, "I have no husband," is a clever half truth. Jesus affirms the truth in her statement before exposing the whole sordid story. He reveals His supernatural knowledge not to condemn her, but to awaken her. He shows her that He knows everything about her, every broken vow and every sinful relationship, and yet, He is still there, still talking to her, still offering her a gift.

19-20 The woman said to Him, “Sir, I see that You are a prophet. Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, and you people say that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship.”

The exposure has worked. She recognizes He is no ordinary man. But the conviction is uncomfortable, so she immediately changes the subject. This is the oldest trick in the book. When confronted with your personal sin, start an abstract theological debate. She pivots from the mess in her heart to the controversy between Mount Gerizim and Mount Zion. She wants to talk about the proper geography of worship because she does not want to talk about the idolatry and adultery of her own life.

21-22 Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe Me, an hour is coming when neither in this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews.

Jesus answers her question, but not in the way she expects. He first declares that her entire premise is about to become obsolete. The whole debate over a physical location for worship is a relic of a bygone era. But in the meantime, He does not grant her a moral equivalency. He draws a sharp line. "You worship what you do not know." The Samaritan religion was a syncretistic corruption of the true faith. "We worship what we know." The Jews, despite their hypocrisy, were the custodians of God's true revelation. And from them, the Messiah would come. "Salvation is from the Jews." He upholds the truth of the Old Covenant even as He is about to fulfill and transcend it.

23-24 But an hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth; for such people the Father seeks to be His worshipers. God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.”

Here is the heart of the new covenant. The "hour" of fulfillment is not just future; it "now is" in the person of Jesus. True worship is defined by two essential qualities. It must be in spirit. This means it is not about external forms, rituals, or locations. It is an internal reality, born of a regenerated heart and empowered by the Holy Spirit. And it must be in truth. It is not enough to be sincere; one must worship the true God as He has truly revealed Himself in His Word, the Lord Jesus Christ. These are the worshipers the Father is actively seeking. The nature of worship is determined by the nature of God. Because God is spirit, our worship must be spiritual.

25-26 The woman said to Him, “I know that Messiah is coming (He who is called Christ); when He comes, He will declare all things to us.” Jesus said to her, “I who speak to you am He.”

Everything has been leading to this. The woman, having had her sin exposed and her theology corrected, falls back on her messianic hope. She knows that the ultimate answers lie with the coming Christ. She is looking for the one who will make everything clear. And then Jesus delivers the simplest, most direct, and most stunning statement. He does not use a parable or a title. He says, plainly, "I am." The great "I am" is speaking to her. The one who can give living water, the one who is greater than Jacob, the prophet who knows her heart, the one who defines true worship, is the Messiah she has been waiting for.

Application

This passage challenges us on two fronts: our worship and our witness. First, our worship. We are constantly tempted to reduce worship to a place (this church building), a style (this kind of music), or a tradition (this liturgy). Jesus blows all of that up. True worship is a matter of the heart being rightly oriented to the God of truth through the power of the Spirit. We must ask if our worship is merely external, a polished cup, or if it flows from an inner wellspring of life. Is it grounded in the truth of Scripture, or in the shifting sands of our feelings and preferences?

Second, our witness. Jesus' example here is our pattern. We must be willing to cross boundaries to talk to people who are not like us. We should learn to use common ground to build a bridge to spiritual realities. We must understand that offering the gospel often requires us to lovingly expose the sin that makes the gospel necessary. We cannot be afraid to put a finger on the wound. And ultimately, our goal is not to win an argument or get a decision, but to introduce a thirsty person to the only one who can satisfy their soul, the Lord Jesus Christ. We must be able to say, when all is said and done, that the one we are talking about is "He."