The Thirsty Prostitute in the Hospital Cafeteria

I'm starting to wonder what it is about Ted Dekker's, Heaven's Wager, and the "amazing and strange" things that happen every time I crack the cover. (Here's my previous review of the book, should you be interested) Several months back, I was sitting in the cafeteria of the hospital where I work, reading Heaven's Wager for the second time. As I finished up with lunch, a young, brunette woman -- maybe 19 or 20 -- sat down in the booth across from mine. I glanced up and smiled, noticing her visitor's badge. She gave me a quick, furtive look and began to fumble with her bag, finally finding a cell phone into which she began talking.

All of this was pretty normal fare for a seemingly ordinary day in the cafeteria. That is, until the woman, looked down at her tray and noticed that there was no beverage on it. "GREAT," I heard her say a little too loudly. She hung up the phone and began to noisily probe through her bag again. "I didn't get a drink" she barked a little louder. Then, in an angry and frustrated tone that made me jump, she exclaimed, "I REALLY WANT A DRINK!"

It wasn't just her outburst that made me jump, but the words that I was reading in the Dekker novel. I was at the very end of a chapter (page 186, to be precise) and the main character, Kent Anthony, is thinking to himself. The exact words printed, the exact words I was reading: He wanted a drink.

God messes with my lunchtime

I don't know about you, but from time to time, God seems to like messing up my carefully orchestrated life. (and that includes lunchtimes.) What are the odds that this young woman across from me would say aloud nearly the same phrase that I was reading? In Richard Blackaby's "Experiencing God", it is often repeated that Christians should be aware and on the lookout for when God is working in the people around them. As I closed my novel and looked over at this woman, it occurred to me that this was likely one of those God moments.

I could see that she was agitated. And she didn't seem to mind the rest of the crowd knowing it. "I forgot my drink... I forgot my drink... I have no more money.... Who's gonna buy me a F****ING DRINK?"

Everyone around me seemed to cower down in their chairs. Truth is, I almost wanted to do that as well, but now she was looking over at me. "How about you?" she shot. "You gonna buy me a drink?"

"Yes, I am," I said. Then, remembering the complimentary drinks available, I offered, "The coffee is free."

"I don't want any coffee. I want a Coke or something."

I fished out the only money in my pocket -- three quarters -- and handed them to her as she shakily stood up. "That ought to buy you any kind of soda in there," I said, pointing toward the soda fountain.

"You're really going to buy me a drink, huh?" she asked. Then, with a tilt of her head, and a steadying hand on my table, she added, "It's like you were sent by God."

I was a bit dumbstruck by that comment. Had I been sent by God? To buy her a drink?

Heading outside... a sudden burden

Moments later I returned my cafeteria tray and headed outside. Pushing through a noisy metal security door, I exited the building and climbed to the top of the steps along the north side facing the street. With each step, an unmistakable burden to pray began to fall on me. (not unlike what awoke me at 5 am one morning) Reaching the summit, I sat down on the top step, clasped my hands together, closed my eyes, and began to pray for this woman. I don't know how much time went by, but I suddenly sensed someone nearby. I peeked from behind my closed lids. It was her; down at the bottom of the stairs, her back to me, unsuccessfully trying to light a cigarette. How had she gotten past the noisy gate without me hearing? I closed my eyes again, intent again on bringing her before God.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, interrupting my thoughts. "There you are!"

I looked down, noticing the Styrofoam cup that she sipped from.

"I see that you got a drink," I mildly observed.

She glanced at the cup, then at me. "Ever had someone say, 'You were sent by God?'"

I paused a beat, reflecting over the many people God has allowed me to interact with. "Actually, yes," I sincerely told her. "I have had people tell me that."

"Ever had someone say that to you ... in bed?" She fumbled with her unlit cigarette again. Dropped it. Picked it back up. Lit it with shaky hands. Blowing smoke, she says, "You look like you have money. I could give you a real good time." She took another sip from the straw in her cup.

Was I really hearing correctly? Was this thirsty woman, on the stairs below me, propositioning me? Just when I began to wonder if I'd mistaken her intentions, she made it glaringly clear.

She gave a flirtatious wink, and wiggled her body seductively. "What do you say? Want to have a little fun?"

A myriad of thoughts went through my mind. None of them included any kind of attraction. Instead I began to wonder about the kind of life she leads? Do her shaky hands reveal a drug or alcohol addiction? Does she sell herself like this to make ends meet? Is this the only life she knows?

Then a scene flashed in my mind: Long ago, a despised Samaritan woman approached a well, and encountered more than just drinking water. She encountered the One -- The Living Water -- The Messiah who told her everything she ever did. (John 4:5-30)

And like that, jumping to the top of my thoughts was a surprising compassion for this woman below me who was young enough to be a daughter. From my overlapped hands (I had yet to unclasp them) my gold wedding band was plain to see, but that didn't seem to deter her in the slightest from attempting to "hook up" with me. What tragic choices had led her here?

I could have said anything to her invitation. I could have condemned her behavior. I could have told her about my wonderful wife of nearly 25 years. I could have stomped away angry, that anyone of her 'status' would dare approach me...

"I've never chosen to go down that road," is what I heard myself say. And once again, a questioning and inquisitive Samaritan woman from long ago flashed through my mind. Had Jesus spoken with compassion then? I believe He had. He showed the Samaritan woman that He was the Way, The Living Water, The Life Giver. He told a despised Samaritan woman that she could drink and never be thirsty again. And here, outside this hospital, He was obviously working a modern day encounter... through me. Was I supposed to share the gospel? Tell her of the One who loved her? Her drugged appearance and erratic behavior held me back.

"Oh, you'll change your mind," she said with a laugh, and a toss of her hair. Then, grabbing her styro cup of soda, she took another sip and sauntered off dizzily across the side lawn, and still God seemed to keep me silent. I somehow knew that I couldn't truly speak to her in her present condition. After a few steps, and nearly falling, she called out, "When you change your mind, you give me a call, ok? I'll treat you right."

I stared sadly after her. Inwardly wondering how she expected me to follow up on her invitation, since she never told me her name; never gave me her number.

And then, on those steps, I closed my eyes and wept for her, asking God to change her physical thirst to a spiritual thirst. A thirst for truth. I asked that God open her eyes to Himself. To see His love as everything she ever needed, ever wanted. For He alone can fill her heart with the love she so desperately craves.

One thing I know, Jesus knows how to handle all that, even when I don't. He knows her name. He knows her need. He knows her ache and hurt.

And I hope I hear one day of how He saved... Saved this modern day woman at the well.