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From Eden To The Well: How Jesus Ends Our Displacement

Jason Cline

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Ever felt out of place even when life looks “normal”? We open with a story of getting lost on a quiet walk and use that unsettling moment to chart a bigger map of exile—how the human heart drifts from where it was meant to live and how Jesus leads us back. Through three vivid portraits from Scripture—Eden’s first banishment, a leper’s social isolation, and a Samaritan woman’s hidden shame—we explore the many faces of displacement and the deeper longing to belong.

We begin in Genesis, where communion with God is shattered and survival replaces identity. The language is fierce—banished, driven out, guarded—yet mercy breaks through as God clothes the fallen and signals a future way home. Then we step into the world of Leviticus and Mark, where “unclean” becomes a public label and a person is pushed outside the camp. Jesus answers stigma with touch, restoring more than health: he restores a name, a place, and a people. Finally, we meet the woman at the well at high noon, carrying a complicated story and a deeper thirst. Jesus crosses ethnic, gender, and moral barriers to offer living water, shifting the question from “where to worship” to “how to worship”—in Spirit and truth.

Along the way we name our own exiles: spiritual distance, social isolation, emotional numbness, and moral fatigue. The throughline is hope. The one truly at home with the Father chose displacement—leaving heaven, suffering outside the city, and bearing abandonment—so we could come back in. If you’ve been hiding, avoiding, or pretending, consider this your invitation to step into the light, receive healing where you hurt most, and reenter community with a story that can guide others home.

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SPEAKER_00:

So before I start, I wanna I want to tell you guys a story. Uh most of you know that I've been to the Dominican uh for some missionary work. But this is the first year that I went down. Uh it was about, I want to say the maybe second or third day. We're going pretty much the same route everywhere we're driving around. So I'm kind of getting confident that I know where I'm going. And then for those of you who met Joaquin, wonderful guy, Joaquin decides to take me for a walk. And I have no idea where I'm at. We end up in a graveyard that I've never seen before. Uh we went and visited some families that had I had no clue where I was. And then he goes up ahead of me, and uh he says, I'll be back. He went and talked to somebody. So I'm just there by myself, completely out of place, and I'm thinking, okay, if he leaves me, I'm gonna die here. I have no confidence in getting back to where I'm at. A little bit of time goes by, I'm just waiting, and he finally comes back and we go back to the house where we were staying, and I felt so relieved to be back somewhere that I was comfortable with and knew at least where the bathroom was. But that's uh kind of a little bit what I'm talking about today is uh just being displaced. So I want to ask you guys have you ever felt truly displaced? So not just physically lost, but emotionally and disp and spiritually out of place. Maybe you moved to a new city and couldn't find your rhythm, and maybe you walked into a room and felt completely invisible, or maybe you've been surrounded by people and still felt completely alone. Displacement is more than geography. It's a spiritual condition. It's the ache of not belonging, the sense that something is missing, that we're not where we're supposed to be. And scripture tells us that this feeling isn't random, it's rooted in something ancient and universal. From the moment sin entered the world, humanity was exiled from the presence of God. We were created for communion, but we've been wandering ever since. And we see this theme through many different generations in the Bible, in the wilderness wanderings of Israel, in the exile of Judah to Babylon, in the cries of the prophets, and in the ministry of Jesus who constantly move toward the displaced. Today we're going to look at three different portraits of displacement in Scripture. Each one reveals a different kind of exile, physical, social, and moral, and each one points us toward the heart of God who never stops pursuing the displaced. So the first one I'd like to talk about is back in Genesis. Genesis 3, 21 through 24. The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them. And the Lord God said, The man is now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat and live forever. So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken. After he drove the man out, he placed on the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim, and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the tree of life. This is the first and most profound displacement in human history. Adam and Eve were not just removed from a location, they were exiled from intimacy with God. Eden was more than just a garden, it was the dwelling place of divine presence. It was where humanity walked with God in the cool of the day. But sin shattered that communion. The moment they chose autonomy over obedience, they were driven out. And I want to notice the language that's used here. Banished, driven out, guarded. Those are not soft words. They speak of rupture, of a severed relationship, and of lost intimacy. So, what all was lost, not just paradise, but identity. Outside the garden, Adam and Eve faced toil, pain, and death. They were no longer defined by communion, but by survival. But even here, God's mercy is present. He doesn't destroy them, he clothes them. He begins the long story of redemption. The flaming sword may guard the way, but it also marks the place where God will one day make a way back. The next section I'd like to talk about is the leper. But before we get to that, let's go back into Leviticus. In Leviticus 13, verses 45 through 46, it says, Anyone with such a defiling disease must wear torn clothes, let their hair be unkept, cover the lower part of their face, and cry out, unclean, unclean. As long as they have the sorry about that. As long as they have the disease, they remain unclean, they must live alone, and they must live outside the camp. This wasn't just a medical quarantine, it was social death. The leper was stripped of dignity, of community, and worship. But then Jesus comes along. And in Mark chapter 1, verses 40 through 42, it says, A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees, if you are willing, you can make me clean. And moved with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. I am willing, he said, Be clean. Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cleansed. This is more than just a simple healing, it's restoration. Jesus doesn't remove the disease, he removes the stigma. He brings the leper back into the community, back into worship, and back into life. Jesus doesn't flinch at our uncleanliness, he moves toward it, he touches what others avoid, and redefines us not by our condition, but by his compassion. And then finally, we come to the woman at the well. John chapter four, verses six through seven. Jacob's well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon. When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, Will you give me a drink? So she came at noon, which was a very unusual time. Most women came in the morning or the evening when it was cooler and there were other ladies there. But she came alone. Why? Well she was carrying shame. Her past was complicated, she had five husbands, and now living with a man who wasn't her husband. And she wasn't displaced by law, she wasn't displaced by disease, but by reputation, by her choices, and by whispers and judgment. But she was thirsty, not just for water, but for meaning, for connection, and for peace. Her relational history wasn't just a social issue. It was a simp symptom of a deeper spiritual ache. She had tried to fill the void with relationships, but none has satisfied. She was drawing water from the well that couldn't quench her soul. But Jesus meets her there. He doesn't wait for her to clean up her life. He doesn't demand a confession before offering conversation. He initiates the encounter. And now, this was a radical idea. Jews didn't associate with Samaritans for one. Men didn't speak publicly with women in that culture, for two. And rabbis certainly didn't engage with morally compromised strangers. But Jesus broke those barriers. Ethic barriers, gender barriers, and moral. He did that to reach her. He asked for water, but then offers her something much deeper, living water. As it goes on in John 4, verses 14. Whoever drinks the water I give them shall never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water, welling up to eternal life. This is the turning point for her. Jesus isn't talking about hydration, he's talking about salvation, about spiritual renewal, about the Spirit of God dwelling in her. John 4, 18 says, You have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. But here he doesn't condemn her. He invites her in. He sees her, and not just her history, but her hunger, not just her mistakes, but her potential. She had been spiritually displaced, cut off from true worship, unsure of where to find God. In fact, she even asked Jesus about the proper place to worship in John 4, verse 20, revealing her confusion and longing. Jesus responds with a revolutionary truth. A time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in the truth. He's saying, You don't have to go to a mountain or a temple. You don't have to be perfect. You just have to be honest, because God is seeking you. And something shifts. She leaves her jar, the symbol of her daily shame, and runs back to the very people she was avoiding. It says in John 4, 28 through 29, then leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah? And in this moment she becomes a witness, a woman who is hiding because a woman who was hiding becomes a herald of grace. This is the power of Jesus. He meets us in our moral and spiritual exile and offers restoration. He doesn't just forgive, he defines. He doesn't just clean up our past, he fills our future with purpose. Her spiritual displacement ends not with condemnation, but with communion, not with shame, but with salvation. So we've seen how displacement shows up in Scripture, in Eden, outside the city walls, and in a lonely well. But what does that mean for us today? It means that we ourselves need to recognize our own exile. This displacement isn't just a biblical theme, it's a personal reality. Some of us I know feel spiritually distant from God. Others feel socially isolated, emotionally numb, or morally ashamed. So maybe you've been hiding, avoiding, or pretending. Maybe you've convinced yourself that God wouldn't want to draw near someone like you. But the Gospels say the complete opposite. If you feel spiritually displaced like Adam and Eve, God is still calling your name in the garden, he's still covering your shame and making a way back. If you feel socially displaced like the leper, Jesus is not afraid of your wounds. Back in Mark 1, he touches what others avoid and he restores what others reject. And if you feel morally displaced like the woman at the well, Jesus sees your story, not to condemn you, but to redeem you. He offers living water that satisfies the shame, satisfies what shame never could. So then, hearing all this, how are we supposed to respond? Well, first we need to come out of hiding. You don't have to draw your water at noon anymore. You don't have to live outside the camp. You don't have to pretend you're fine when all right say that you're not. And once you recognize that and come out of hiding, you need to let Jesus touch your exile. Invite him to the place you've been avoiding. Let him speak truth over your shame, healing over your wounds, and grace over your guilt. I tell you, that's one of the most important things is letting Jesus into your life. The places that you don't let other people, the conversations you won't even have with yourself. That's where Jesus can help you. And then step into a community. The woman at the well ran back to her town. The leper rejoined society, and Adam and Eve began the long journey of redemption. We're not meant to walk this life alone. There are plenty of opportunities to be in this community, whether it's in the church, in just the community in the town, the city. You're wanted there, even in moments that you feel like you're not. And in those moments, you can live as a witness. When you've been replaced by grace, you become a voice for others that are still displaced. Your story becomes a bridge for someone else's homecoming. It's not just a theology, but it's a transformation. The gospel doesn't inform us and invites us into this transformation. I'll tell you, if you let that transform you, it's probably the most beautiful thing you will ever experience. So what do we see here? We see Adam and Eve displaced by sin, the leper displaced by sickness and ritual law, and the woman displaced by shame and moral failure. And in one way or another, we've all been there. We've all stood outside the gate, we've all cried unclean, and we've all hidden in the noonday sun. But here's the good news. Jesus came to end this exile. Jesus, he was the only one who was perfectly at home with God. He chose to become the ultimate displaced one. Not only did he come out of heaven, but he was crucified outside the city. He cried out in abandonment, and he was cast out so that we could be brought back in. He removed the flaming sword for us, he healed the leprosy, and he washed away the shame. And now all these barriers are gone. The displacement is over for those who trust in him. This is the heart of the gospel. Jesus didn't come to just forgive our sins. He didn't come to heal our wounds, he came to restore our place with God. And he didn't come to speak truth. He came to invite us into communion. So let me ask you all, are you still living outside the garden, outside the camp, and outside of the community of God? If so, you don't have to. The price has been paid and the invitation is open. So let today be your day of homecoming. God, I thank you for this day. Thank you for all the wonderful blessings that you bestow upon us. God, I pray that all these people can be welcomed back into your community, that they can they can come home to you in ways that we can't do on our own. Because we know the path to you is through Jesus. God, we love you and we thank you in your holy name. Amen.