“If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water” (John 4:10).

This statement, uttered by Jesus to a Samaritan woman burdened by her past, encapsulates the essence of who God is and how humanity is designed to relate to Him. There is no other God but this one—the boundless supplier who gives without end—and no other way to engage Him but through the bold act of asking in faith, with the assurance that He will provide good things. Jesus doesn’t just teach these realities; He presupposes them, building His entire dialogue on their unassailable foundation.

In the narrative of John 4:1-42, where Jesus encounters the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well, we find a profound revelation that cuts through cultural barriers and religious pretensions like a divine scalpel. This isn’t just a story about evangelism; though it does this. At its core, Jesus unveils two foundational truths about God and our relationship with Him, truths He both teaches explicitly and presupposes as the bedrock of reality. First, God is the ultimate wellspring, the rich supplier who pours out blessings upon us; we don’t supply Him, for He lacks nothing and gives everything good. Second, Jesus operates on the assumption that when a human stumbles upon God; the natural, immediate response should be to ask for those good things, with the certainty that God will deliver. These aren’t optional insights; they’re woven into the fabric of who God is and how He relates to us. This is similar to us seeing Jesus healing all those people in the gospels, and He says, “if you have seen Me, You have seen the Father.” This is how God is, and how He relates to us.

Consider the setting: Jesus, weary from travel, sits by the well at noon, a time when the heat drives most indoors. The Samaritan woman arrives, burdened not just by her water pot but by a life of relational wreckage—five husbands and now living with a sixth man who isn’t her husband. Jesus initiates the conversation by asking for a drink, flipping the script on who gives to whom. But here’s where the first point emerges with crystalline clarity. Jesus quickly pivots from physical water to “living water,” a metaphor for the eternal life and refreshment only He can provide. “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink,” He says in verse 10, “you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” Notice the emphasis: God is the giver, the supplier. The woman, intrigued but skeptical, points to the well’s depth and Jesus’ lack of a bucket, but He presses on, describing this living water as a spring welling up to eternal life. God isn’t depicted as a needy deity demanding our meager offerings; rather, He’s the inexhaustible source, rich beyond measure, who delights in supplying our deepest needs.

This presupposition about God’s nature aligns seamlessly with the broader biblical witness. God’s self-existence and immutability mean He lacks nothing; the One who creates all things by His Word, without depleting Himself. As Psalm 50:12 declares, “If I were hungry I would not tell you, for the world is mine, and all that is in it.” God doesn’t need our water pots or our rituals; we need Hi. How often do we reverse this; It’s a subtle idolatry, one that creeps into prayers where we “offer” God our service to buy things from God. But God’s goodness isn’t stingy; it’s lavish, as James 1:17 reminds us, every good and perfect gift coming down from the Father of lights, who doesn’t change like shifting shadows.

Building on this, the second point Jesus presupposes is the dynamic of our relationship with God: encounter Him, and the instinctive move is to ask boldly for good things, with the assurance they’ll be granted. The woman doesn’t fully grasp it at first; she’s fixated on literal water, asking in verse 15, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water. Jesus assumes that recognizing God, should lead to immediate asking, and that asking in faith yields results.  The presupposition is clear: God is eager to give, and faith receives.

This isn’t some isolated anomaly; it’s the pattern Jesus models throughout His ministry. In the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 7:7-11), He teaches, “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” He presupposes a Father who gives good gifts to those who ask, contrasting Him with earthly parents who wouldn’t hand a snake instead of fish. Here at the well, Jesus lives this out, offering living water freely to a Samaritan outsider, no strings attached beyond recognition and request. The woman, despite her messy past, gets it quicker than many theologians today. She asks, and Jesus delivers; not just water, but revelation that sparks a revival in Sychar. Verses 39-42 show many Samaritans believing because of her testimony, culminating in their own confession: “We know that this man really is the Savior of the world.” Jesus presupposes a relationship where humans, frail and thirsty as we are, approach God not in groveling fear but in expectant faith, knowing He’ll supply abundantly.

Jesus assumes that upon recognizing God, the human response should be immediate and audacious—ask, and God will give good things. “If you knew,” He says, implying that true knowledge of God propels one to petition without hesitation. This dynamic presupposes faith as the primordial doctrine for God’s children: encounter Him, acknowledge your need, ask for good things, and receive. Jesus operates on the certainty that God, being good, responds affirmatively to such requests, much as a loving father gives bread for bread, not stones for bread, (Matthew 7:9-11). Jesus’ ministry reinforces this; from the centurion’s faith securing an instant healing to the promise in John 14:13-14 that whatever we ask in His name, He will do it. To relate to God differently, is to fabricate a false god.

There is no other God but this supplier of living water, and no other way to relate but through knowing, asking, and receiving. Faithless doctrines, like those peddled by cessationists or fatalists, God’s supply is rationed, miracles relegated to apostolic footnotes, but Jesus presupposes abundance for all who believe. This is the word of faith confession: affirm God’s promises, ask boldly, and reality bends. The Samaritan woman’s story rebukes our hesitations— she, an outsider with a checkered past, asks and receives, her faith igniting a harvest while the disciples fuss over lunch (verse 35).

In practical terms, this transforms our prayer life and worldview. If God is the rich supplier, we approach His throne of grace without fear, as co-heirs with Christ, demanding the blessings sworn in Abraham’s covenant—healing, prosperity, the Spirit’s power. Faith isn’t groveling; it’s the insider privilege, as angels marvel at our audacity to wrestle blessings like Jacob or command mountains like Jesus teaches. Frankly, if we’re not asking for good things—spiritual depth, physical healing, material provision—we’re relating to a counterfeit god, one who can’t or won’t give. But this God? He’s the only one who exists. Jesus presupposes if you can recognize Him as God, then your response is to open your mouth and ask for the biggest things you can thing of, like the baptism of the Spirit, eternal life and healing.  

Yet, let’s not overlook the subtle rebukes in this passage, for they mirror the defective starting points I critique in my theology. The woman’s initial focus on physical water and religious debates (verse 20) reflects humanity’s tendency toward superstition—seeking God in places or rituals rather than in spirit and truth (verse 24). Jesus presupposes a direct, asking relationship, bypassing such nonsense. The disciples’ astonishment at His conversation with a Samaritan woman exposes insider complacency, presupposing barriers where God sees free access to ask and receive. In our day, this challenges faith-fumblers who dilute prayer to “Thy will be done” as an excuse for unbelief, ignoring Jesus’ presupposition that God’s will is to give good things to those who ask in faith. As necessary as God’s nature is, are prayers on the demand of faith—anything less would make truth, false, or a circle a square.

Do we know this God, the supplier who gives without measure in healing, prosperity, deliverance and an abundance of life? The Samaritan woman’s legacy isn’t her past but her pivot to faith. And this is the greatest type of legacy; the legacy of faith.  Drop the fearful self-reliance, and recognize the Messiah is standing at the well. If you knew who God was, the first thing Jesus presupposes is that you would immediately start asking and God will start giving. There is no other God, and there is no other way to relate to this God. It is the way of faith.