Meet At The Well is brought to you by Mariana Herrera Mosli—writer, poet, and seminary student whose work lives at the intersection of theology, storytelling, and lived experience. An ESL learner turned English Literature graduate, Mariana explores faith, healing, and becoming through biblical literature and story. She is pursuing a Master of Arts in Theology with an emphasis in Women and Ministry and is currently working on her first poetry collection, Thorns & Honey (tentative title), forthcoming with The Way Back Books, spring 2027. A note before you listen: This conversation is not an invitation to consume everything indiscriminately. Discernment is the work of the Holy Spirit, not the suspension of wisdom. Our hope is to practice the kind of curiosity that crosses cultural boundaries for the sake of love and understanding, while honoring the divine boundaries God gives for our flourishing. Jesus crossed borders to meet people, never to compromise holiness. We hope this conversation helps us do the same. Sometimes the most profound questions about humanity are being asked outside the walls we’ve built. There are entire worlds hidden in plain sight that our eyes haven’t been trained to see. Sometimes those worlds are found in the margins of Scripture. Sometimes they’re found in the people our systems overlook. And other times... they’re hiding inside a three-minute reggaeton song. Growing up in a strict Cuban Catholic home, this genre of music wasn’t allowed. It certainly wasn’t something we would have analyzed around the dinner table. It belonged to a category: worldly, shallow, disposable. Yet as I grew older, hip-hop, R&B, and reggaeton often gave language to experiences and injustices I had witnessed but couldn’t yet name. They held stories of poverty, migration, racial identity, longing, grief, and hope. More often than not, sharing a lyric or reflecting on a song earned me labels like rebellious, Jezebel, and perdida. And for many years, I internalized that identity. Often feeling fractured, too secular for the sacred, and too sacred for the secular. Jesus met me in this fracture—this in-between place. Looking back, I wonder if what unsettled people wasn’t the music itself, but the audacity that God might be at work in places they had decided He couldn’t be. Spending years studying poetry, narrative, and close reading, and earning a degree in English Literature, I’ve found myself asking different questions. At the same time, the Holy Spirit had been at work training my spiritual eyes to see myself, and others, different, too. What if we’ve confused discernment with dismissal? Curiosity with compromise? What if learning to pay attention, even in discomfort, is itself a spiritual discipline? That question sits at the heart of my latest conversation on Meet At The Well with writer, editor, and literary scholar, Mara Eller. Yes, we talk about Bad Bunny. And at the same time, we’re talking about attention and theological imagination. We talk about slowing down long enough to ask what art is doing before deciding whether it belongs in the discard pile. Mara reads Bad Bunny’s work the way a literary scholar approaches a poem—not to excuse everything the artist says or does, but to understand what his work reveals about the human condition. She pays attention to longing, identity, race, masculinity, home, power, and the ache beneath the lyrics. Whether you’re familiar with Bad Bunny or pop music, the deeper question is this: What conversations do we avoid—not out of discernment, but out of dismissal? That question takes me back to John 4. The road through Samaria was one many Jews preferred to avoid. History, prejudice, and inherited assumptions had already determined what kind of people lived there and whether they were worth engaging. Jesus walks a different road. He doesn’t affirm everything about Samaritan belief. Neither does He avoid the conversation altogether. He crosses the boundary. He asks for a drink. He listens. He engages. He speaks truth tenderly. And in doing so, He transforms not only one woman’s life, but an entire community. Jesus’ longest recorded conversation with any individual in the Gospels happens with someone many would have dismissed before ever sitting down beside her. Jesus crossed cultural boundaries to encounter people while remaining wholly faithful to the Father. At Meet At The Well, that’s the posture we’re pursuing: not crossing divine boundaries meant for our protection, but crossing the man-made barriers that keep us from seeing our neighbors with the dignity and compassion of Christ. The disciples saw a type of people to avoid. Jesus saw them worthy of His thirst. Perhaps faithful reading works much the same way. Not every piece of art deserves our admiration, but every act of careful attention forms us. It teaches us to distinguish rather than stereotype. To ask questions before making judgement. To recognize that stories often carry truth long before people have theological language to explain what they’re experiencing. At Meet At The Well, we want to break barriers, not people. That requires more than having the right answers. It requires learning how to read—Scripture, culture, our neighbors, and even ourselves—with humility. Curiosity without discernment can become compromise, but discernment without curiosity can become fear. The Holy Spirit forms both. Jesus crossed into Samaria, spoke with a Samaritan woman, and revealed Himself as Messiah—without ever compromising truth. As followers of Christ, we don’t have to fear culture to engage it faithfully. In fact, one of the most countercultural spiritual practices available to us may be slowing down long enough to notice what everyone else has rushed past. Because every human being bears the image of God. And image-bearers have always made art to tell the truth about what hurts. Perhaps the question isn’t whether something is sacred or secular. Perhaps the better question is: Have we learned how to read like Jesus? If that question stirs your curiosity, I’d love to invite you to meet Mara and I at the well. I have a feeling you’ll leave listening a little more closely—to music, to your neighbors, and perhaps even to Scripture itself. Watch the Episode: Episode Highlights * Why Bad Bunny’s lyrics deserve to be read as literature—not merely consumed as entertainment. * How poetry helps us name what prose often cannot. * The theological imagination hidden within contemporary culture. * What close reading teaches us about curiosity, discernment, and empathy. * Why Christians don’t have to fear culture to engage it faithfully. * How stories become bridges toward understanding rather than battlegrounds for certainty. * Pop music as modern poetry and cultural critique. Share Meet At The Well with someone who enjoys thoughtful conversations at the intersection of faith, literature, and culture. Mara Eller is a writer, teacher, editor, and literary scholar whose work helps writers cultivate self-acceptance, wrestle honestly with difficult questions, and discover beauty amid the ashes of a broken world. She believes stories don’t merely entertain us—they shape us. The stories we inherit and the stories we tell ourselves influence how we see our neighbors, our own souls, and even God. I encourage you to spend time with Mara’s work. You can find her thoughtful essays on Substack, explore her literary analyses and writing on her website, and follow her reflections on Instagram, where she continues inviting readers to see the world—and themselves—with greater curiosity, courage, and compassion. From the well, Mariana If Meet At The Well has become a place where you’ve felt seen, challenged, or reminded that you’re not alone, I’d love to invite you to become a paid subscriber. For $5/month, you’re helping sustain this work so these essays, conversations, and resources can continue reaching people living in the hard middle. Get full access to Meet At The Well at meetatthewell.substack.com/subscribe
