When Jesus arrived at the well, he had been walking all morning. He was tired. And thirsty.

Even though he was tired, he still noticed the woman at the well.

He could have easily been distracted by his achy feet or his bellyaching companions. Or dodged the whole Samaritan area completely, like so many of his fellow Jews. But Jesus, in his tiredness, came to the town, approached the well, and noticed the woman.

She was a woman—a woman of ill-repute at that—and yet he noticed her. He knew her history. Her present. All her sins. But for some reason she didn’t turn away. Mesmerized by his talk of water that would quench her thirst forever—no more trips to the well—it all seemed too good to be true.

This good news was more than she could bear. The whole town—though they shunned her—needed to know about this man who told her everything she had done and yet offered her freedom through his living water. The taste of forgiveness. Redemption. Wholeness.

An entire town heard the Good News that day.

But what if Jesus had been too tired? What if the exhaustion of his current season was just too much?  What if he had listened to his buddies and stopped the conversation? What if he was simply “peopled out”?

I am convicted at this thought. How many times has God brought me to the well and I failed to see the other person waiting there, desperate for Living Water? Have I been too distracted by my own tired feet and exhausted body? Or have I dodged others because I’m simply “peopled out”?

Exhaustion is a daily reality for me. I have every right to want to dodge people and hide away, resting when and where I can. But what if I’m at the well and never notice the other person? What if God has a divine moment waiting and wants to use me in the process?

Even when I’m tired, I must choose to look past my distraction and see what God is doing. Jesus did it. He noticed her.

And her life was never her same.

Whose life needs to be impacted? Choose intentionality. And choose to have eyes that see.