This weekend I am speaking from Luke 10 about the parable of the Good Samaritan. I hope, if you are in the Florence, Alabama area, you will come and focus with me on this great parable of our Lord. (It’s at the Shiloh church and it starts on Saturday at nine a.m.) Typical of all of these stories of the Master storyteller, I can think of about ten complete ladies day lessons right off the bat that could be drawn from these verses about the battered man on the side of the road and the one who rescued him. There’s the lesson about what loving God and Man really means, the one about identifying your neighbor, the one about piety without pity, or faith without fruits.
But the inescapable place I always land when I start down the Jericho Road in my mind is that I am there. On some days I am the lawyer who is “willing to justify” myself….”I am too busy,” or “Someone else can do it better,” or “I already am doing more than most people,” or a thousand other lines that are overused and less than authentic. On bad days, I emulate characteristics of those who robbed and hurt the traveler. It’s usually not a stranger that I rob, but still, there have been days when I rob my husband of the respect he deserves or my children of the time or guidance they need. On other days I am the priest or Levite who is made aware of needs all about, but, looking the other way, chooses to be uninvolved in problems with which others are struggling. On a good day, I emulate at least some of the characteristics of the Good Samaritan. I want to be more like him every day. I want to be inconvenienced for the good of my fellowman. I want to take time that’s precious for someone I know who is suffering. I want to spend money for the rescue of a friend or even a stranger.
But it’s every day that I am in one more place on the road to Jericho. I am the bruised and bleeding traveler. I am lying on the side of that road, wounded and left for dead by the devil and sin. I am, without the rescue of the GREAT Samaritan, completely without hope. But He has the oil and wine. He has the balm. He has the beast of burden to carry me to the place of safety and healing. I am so thankful he stopped for me…at Calvary.
