Someone’s footsteps approached Joseph, paused, set something down on the earthen floor with a soft thud, and then faded into the distance. Curious, Joseph tried again to open his eyes, but the darkness wouldn’t lift. In the past, he would have just given up, assuming it wasn’t God’s will. But this time, he clung to the hope he’d found and refused to let go. After several tries, the darkness slowly faded, and the world grew brighter. The evening sky glowed red, stretching before his eyes. In the distance, he saw the girl who had given him hope and made him reflect on himself. She was walking away with a water jug balanced on her head. Joseph had seen her at the well before, but she’d never caught his eye—she wasn’t especially pretty or well-dressed. Now, though, she appeared to him in a light that made her more beautiful than he’d ever realized.
He couldn’t look away until she disappeared behind a building. Lowering his gaze, he noticed a small, roughly hewn wooden bowl beside him, with fresh water gently rippling inside. The ripples seemed to echo in Joseph’s heart, swelling into a wave of emotion. He wondered: Why was she so kind to him? Might she like him?
His heart fluttered, but when he looked at himself, he gave a bitter smile. Who would care for a man as dirty as he was? It probably didn’t mean anything special. Maybe she just felt sorry for a sweaty stranger napping by the well, or maybe she wanted him to wake up and go home. Long ago, Rebekah had given water to Abraham’s servant when he was tired—maybe this girl was simply showing kindness, just as Rebekah had. That was probably all it was.
Still, even if there was no special intention, her words and this small act of kindness meant more to Joseph than anything else after such a hard day. No matter how plain or insignificant the little wooden bowl looked, to Joseph—worn out and thirsty in both body and soul—it was as if he’d been given living water, life itself.
Even if she hadn’t meant anything by it, if such a simple act could revive someone like him, then maybe even his small, unremarkable life could become a source of hope for someone else. Even if he could never do anything great or change the world, or even hope for an ordinary life like everyone else—if, through the days given to him, he could bring hope to someone in pain, wouldn’t that be enough? That, he realized, was the life his parents had hoped he would live, and the life God desired for him as well.
Joseph lifted the bowl to his lips. The cool, fresh water slid down his throat, quenching not only his physical thirst but soothing the deepest longing in his heart. Its refreshing taste calmed the turmoil that had been burning inside him—a moment he’d never forget, for he’d nearly turned away from God. He looked up at the sky, and as he offered a prayer of thanks, tears of true joy—so different from the ones he’d forced back earlier—ran down his face.
The wooden bowl she’d left behind—so common, so often thought of as worthless by others—became to Joseph a vessel of honor beyond compare. It was a sign: not only the bowl, but the girl herself, would one day become a vessel for honor. Though she seemed like any ordinary country girl, through the journey of her life, God was preparing her to be used for every good work.
* * *
After seeing Mary at the well, Joseph’s worries melted away. Determined to live each day with gratitude as she did, he started looking for things to thank God for in every moment, no matter how small. As he practiced this, he found that the tight knots of comparison and resentment in his heart slowly loosened. Joseph wanted, even in some small way, to repay the girl who’d brought such a change to his life.
From then on, Joseph would pass by her house on his way home from work. He soon realized that her family’s situation was even worse than he’d thought. Mary’s father, having injured his back, could barely move, and the rest of the family worked as tenant farmers and took on countless odd jobs, piling up work outside the house every evening. Sometimes, Joseph would see her siblings come out to fetch another bundle of work, their faces thin and pale, likely from not having enough to eat. With living expenses, treatment costs, and taxes, their lives were always a struggle, no matter how hard they worked.
During Sabbath worship at the synagogue, Joseph would wonder what he could do to help Mary’s family. God had always commanded justice for the poor and the weak, and Joseph felt it was right to offer whatever help he could to those worse off than himself. So, whenever he was paid, he’d buy generous amounts of grain and food and leave them secretly at Mary’s door under the cover of night.
No one ever noticed or praised him for it, but watching Mary’s siblings grow healthier each day was reward enough. As Joseph kept living with this quiet joy, he found that complaints no longer escaped his lips, no matter how tough things got. Noticing his hard work and cheerful spirit, the foreman soon put him in charge of a small group of workers and increased his pay. Grateful for this unexpected blessing, Joseph was glad to be able to help Mary’s family even more.
Outwardly, little had changed in his circumstances, but inwardly, his life was completely transformed. The days of darkness and frustration faded away, replaced by new days filled with light and hope.
* * *
Weeks passed. One day, Joseph found himself in unusually high spirits. He finished work earlier than usual, and the merchant, now familiar with him, gave him a generous measure of grain. Even after buying all sorts of vegetables and perfectly ripe fruit at the market, the bundle slung over his shoulder felt surprisingly light. Buoyed by a sense of anticipation, as if something good was about to happen, Joseph climbed the mountain path to Nazareth. With each step, a cheerful rhythm echoed beneath his feet, and he hummed softly to himself. His robe fluttered in the breeze, dancing to the melody, and his steps felt as light as air.
Arriving in Nazareth a little earlier than usual, Joseph hesitated, unsure whether to go to Mary’s house right away or stop by his own place first and drop by later, as he usually did. If he went at night, he could leave the food unnoticed, but the fresh ingredients might lose their quality. On the other hand, if he went now, there was a risk of being seen, but Mary’s family would have a much better dinner. One way was safer but brought less joy; the other was a little risky, but promised far greater happiness. For Joseph, the answer was clear. He decided he’d just be more careful and made his way to Mary’s house.
When he arrived, Joseph checked to make sure no one was around, then snuck quietly up to the door. Only after looking around once more did he gently set the bundle down. As the tension in his chest began to ease, he finally noticed the sounds of dinner being prepared inside. The scent of food drifting through the door made his empty stomach ache with longing.
Unconsciously, Joseph swallowed. If he left now, he’d go home to eat alone—not a real meal, just something to fill his belly. For a moment, he imagined what it would be like to sit at a table like theirs, sharing a warm meal with family. The thought made him feel oddly forlorn, and though he tried to leave, he found himself unable to move. He just didn’t want to go back to another lonely evening so soon.
He wondered if Mary was inside. Pressing his ear gently to the door, he strained to catch even the faintest sound of her voice. Just as all his attention was focused on the sounds within, he suddenly sensed someone behind him. Startled, he turned—and there was Mary, carrying a water jug, just as she had that day.
She looked wary, and Joseph froze, his heart pounding and his body refusing to move. As he tried desperately to do something—anything—he stumbled over the bundle he’d left on the ground and fell hard, landing on his backside. His face flushed with embarrassment.
While Joseph floundered, Mary set her water jug down, a subtle look crossing her face, as if something had dawned on her. In that moment, Joseph scrambled to his feet, dust flying from his clothes as he stood up too quickly. Only then did he become painfully aware of how foolish he must have looked—caught in such a suspicious pose, dirty and sweaty from a long day’s work, his clothes covered in dust. He felt a deep shame, not just for his awkward actions, but also for his own shabby appearance: tired, grimy, and nothing like the person he wished he could be.
Was it a mistake to come so early and get caught? Should he have gone home to wash and change first? Why had he acted like this? Of course she’d think he was strange—who wouldn’t be suspicious of a man with his ear pressed to their door?
A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning, each one stinging him with shame. The storm of embarrassment settled over his heart, darkening everything inside him. And then, through that cloud, Mary’s voice reached him—the very same voice that had once led him from darkness into light.
“Hey.”
“Hi...”
“Are you the one who’s been helping us all this time?”
“…Yeah.”
“Thank you. You’ve helped us a lot.”
Relief washed over Joseph, and before he knew it, a smile spread across his lips. Trying to hide it only made him look more awkward, though he didn’t realize it. In that moment, he simply rejoiced in the ray of sunlight that had broken through the clouds, offering silent thanks to God for this moment.
Then Mary spoke again.
“But I wish you wouldn’t do this anymore.”
“…What?”
“It doesn’t feel right to accept so much help from someone we hardly know, for no real reason.”
“No, it’s not without a reason...”
“After seeing what you just did, even if you have a reason, I doubt it’s a good one.”
Her voice grew firmer now, so different from before that Joseph felt as if he were being scolded. He’d only wanted to help, out of kindness, asking for nothing in return. That was enough for him. But how could he prove it? How could he clear away Mary’s misunderstanding?
The sunlight in his heart vanished, swept away by storm clouds. Rain poured down inside him, each drop stinging his chest and sending ripples of pain through him. The ripples became waves, battering him with accusations:
You’re hopeless. Good intentions? Don’t fool yourself. You know what you really wanted. You thought if you impressed her, she might love you. Idiot—wake up. Who would ever love a penniless man like you?
These words were the voices of all the guilt and low self-esteem that had weighed him down for years. Wounds he thought had healed split open again, and like a levee breaking under a flood, his weakened heart could no longer hold back the torrent. He felt like he was about to break.
At that moment, God’s words suddenly came to mind: “The waters will no more become a flood to destroy all flesh.”
It was the very promise God had given to Noah—the covenant sealed with a rainbow in the sky.
And just like that rainbow after the storm, one steadfast feeling remained in Joseph’s heart: the hope that had freed him from his miserable past. Joseph opened his bundle and took out something wrapped in clean cloth. He unwrapped it and revealed the rough, yet precious, wooden bowl.
“Do you remember this?”
“That’s...”
“It’s the bowl you used to give me water at the well.”
“…”
“I was so grateful that day, I wanted to repay you.”
“It was nothing... you don’t have to repay me.”
“It may have seemed like nothing to you, but to me, it was the greatest gift. I’ve wandered far from home, and suffered much along the way. I was looked down on as a poor wanderer, worked hard and often went unpaid. I even worked for fellow Jews who exploited me more harshly than foreigners, and I met many who came close only to take what little I had. The more these things happened, the more exhausted I became. When I saw those who had turned away from God prospering, I began to doubt the path I had chosen. In that way, I found myself living in a hell of my own making.”
“…”
“But your selfless kindness that day saved me when I was at my lowest. Looking at that bowl, I realized that even a life as small and insignificant as mine could still become a great help to someone else. That realization changed everything.”
Mary was silent for a moment, then shook her head.
“I don’t think it was that important... but I understand what you mean. I’m sorry for getting upset earlier. But I think you’ve already done enough.”
“I just want to help. Can’t you let me?”
“I believe God has a reason for giving us this difficult time. With my father injured and everyone in the family having to work, of course it hasn’t been easy. But holding on to the hope that there’s something God wants to show us through these hardships has helped us endure. That’s why I worry that accepting help right now, when we’re meant to face and learn from this season, might not be the best thing for us.”
“…”
“I really am grateful for what you’ve done. But from now on, we want to try handling things on our own.”
Hearing that his actions might actually be holding her family back, Joseph realized that his desire to keep helping might not have come from God, but from his own longing.
“I might have been too blunt. I hope I didn’t hurt you...”
“No, you’re right. I was only thinking of myself.”
“Well, we’ll never forget your kindness. We’ll find a way to repay you someday.”
“All right...”
Joseph bowed his head in farewell and turned to leave. He forced a smile, but it only made his face feel even more awkward and strained than before.
The passages from Genesis 9:15 quoted in this narrative are taken directly from the World English Bible (WEB) translation.
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