"Why me, Lord? What did I ever do to deserve such treatment? My head's hurting so bad. They even took my clothes. And look at the blood. God, if somebody doesn't come soon, I could bleed to death . . . Is that it, Lord? Is this how my life is going to end? Beaten and bloody, lying naked by the side of the road? What about my family? Who will look after them? What about my wife? I may not deserve to live, but surely she doesn't deserve to be a widow. I have no brothers to look after her. How will she eat? Oh, God, why doesn't someone come? How long can I hold on? I move my lips but no sound comes out. Will anyone even see me? And even if they see me, will they care?
"Wait someone's coming. Oh, thank you, Lord. It's a priest. A man of God. Surely he will help me. At least he can bind up my wounds so they will stop bleeding. And give me some water to drink. My mouth is so dry. Thank you God for sending this holy man. He'll know what to do. What . . . what's happening? He's turning his head. He's acting like he doesn't even see me. I want to shout to him: Please help me! Please help me! But the words stick in my throat. Oh, no, please no, he's not stopping. He's leaving me here bleeding. Oh, God, how much longer can I hold on?
"Sorry, Lord, I must have blacked out there for a few moments. I guess the priest is not coming back, is he? Maybe he didn't really see me. Maybe he assumed I was a common beggar. Of course, that's it. The thieves took my clothes. They took the ring off my finger. There was no way the priest could tell from that distance that I am someone who matters. He couldn't even tell that I am a fellow Jew. No wonder he didn't stop. He might have thought I was a half-breed Samaritan. Who could blame him for being wary? I doubt if I would have stopped either.
"I'm going to die, aren't I, Lord? Die like a dog on the side of the road. Isn't there someone who can help me?
"Wait, Lord, someone else is coming. It's a Levite. Oh, God, will he stop? I'll understand if he doesn't. He doesn't know who I am either. Perhaps he will think it's a trap. If I could only call out to him. I could recite the Shema to him. `The Lord our God is one God . . . ˜ Then he would know that I love the Law even as he does. Then he would know that I am worthy of his help.
"What~s he doing? He's looking the other way, too. Oh, God, why have you forsaken me? Why can't I even cry for help? Please let someone stop to help me. Someone, anyone.
"Who's this coming now? Certainly not a holy man. A merchant, perhaps. He's stopping. Thank God, he's stopping. I'm losing consciousness now. Who is this man who is stopping to help me? Who is this man who may be saving my life? Who is he?"
The parable of the Good Samaritan. Who was it who proved neighbor to the man who had been beaten and robbed and left by the road to die? IN THE STORY OF THE GOOD SAMARITAN WE SEE THE PLIGHT OF ALL HUMANITY. This is not simply a story about one man lying in a ditch. It is about you and me and everyone we know. We are all needy people. Some of us are needy in terms of material possessions, but all of us are needy in terms of the spirit. We mustn't think this story is simply about stopping the car every time we see someone holding up a sign, "Will work for food." It is about the people we work with and the teenager living next door and the old man with the stooped shoulders and the businessman in the tailored suit. Because, in our heart of hearts, all of us are in need. All of us have a part of us that is bruised and battered and bleeding.
A well-known leader of the community was found dead drunk ” and in public. Allan Emery tells in his book, TURTLE ON A FENCEPOST, how his wealthy father sent a chauffeured limousine to pick the man up and bring him to their elegant house.
Allan noticed with concern that his mother had prepared the big guest room. There were fresh flowers on the dresser. And, to Allan's horror, he saw that his mother had made up the handsome four-poster bed with real linen hemstitched sheets and monogrammed linen pillowcases.
Allan protested to his mother that she knew nothing about drunks ” that they got sick and the man would throw up all over the bed, sheets, and antique bedspread.
Looking at her perturbed son, his mother said seriously, "When he wakes up, he'll feel sick, lonely and ashamed. It is important for him to see immediately that he is our honored guest and that we gave him our best." She knew this man in his disgrace would need all the encouragement he could get. (1)
He was a leader in his community, but he was a very needy person. And so are we all. I'm reminded of the little girl who lived in a very ritzy neighborhood whose teacher asked her to write a composition on the subject of poverty. The little girl started her essay like this: "Once there was a poor little girl. Her father was poor, her mother was poor, her chauffeur was poor, her butler was poor. They all were very, very poor."
In a sense the little girl was right. All of humanity lies in a ditch. Everyone is needy. In the story of the Good Samaritan we see the essential plight of every person on this earth. But we also see something else. WE ALSO SEE THE WONDER OF SELF- GIVING LOVE. Agape love the Bible calls it ” love that is given with no expectation of reward. Such love is so rare in this world.
I ran across a subtle piece of humor. Cal Holm tells about two liberal sociologists walking down the street. They see a man lying at the curb who is covered with cuts and bruises from a terrible mugging. Cal says one of the sociologists turns to his colleague and says, "Whoever did this terrible deed really needs our help." (2)
It is so easy to rationalize, to justify, to find excuses for passing by on the other side. Undoubtedly the priest and the Levite had reasons for passing this man by. Self- giving love is so rare in this world.
Ron Lee Davis tells about a friend of his named Bob Osborne. Bob is comanager of the First Presbyterian Thrift Shop in Fresno, California. He is a man with a tender heart for people. Bob has traveled to Africa and India to see human need firsthand and to do whatever he can to meet those needs. Bob doesn~t think of himself as a missionary, but, instead, as an ordinary Christian in an ordinary American church, who happens to care about suffering people. Davis says he has stood with Bob in the dusty street of an African village and seen tears roll down Bob~s face because his heart was broken over the misery of men, women, and little children devastated by ground-cracking famine.
On one trip to India, Bob stuffed into his suitcase as many shoes as would fit. Why? Because shoes are a rare commodity in India, and he planned to leave as many pairs as possible with those who needed them. On the return flight, Bob was barefooted. He had taken the shoes off his own feet to give to an Indian farmer. (3)
There are such people in the world. People who give of themselves to help others. In this story Jesus shows us the plight of humanity broken and bleeding in a ditch and in the person of the Good Samaritan, Jesus shows us self-giving love, AND WE ARE REMINDED THAT ONCE UPON A TIME WE LAY BY THE ROAD. Here is where grace enters the picture.
All of us know the essential lessons of this ancient parable. We are to help people in need. Regardless of their religion, their race, their national origin, we are to stop and try to help. But where does the power for such selfless love come from?
It comes from recognizing that once upon a time when we least expected it or deserved it ” while we were yet sinners ” Christ died in our behalf. It is our broken and bleeding body over which the hero of the parable hovers. Unless we see that we have been recipients of that kind of selfless, agape love, we will never be able to share that love with others.
Years ago there was a sacred song titled THE BIRD WITH THE BROKEN WING. It was written by Hezekiah Butterworth. It ended with the doleful lines: But the bird with the broken pinion, Never soared as high again.
The message of the song was obviously intended to be that for the wounded bird, whose very life depended on its wing, only a life of limitation and frustration lay ahead. The possibility of soaring into the blue was gone forever.
The words of the song were set to music by Peter Bilhorn, a popular American singing evangelist. On one occasion he sang it in the Iowa state prison. When he concluded the song, one of the convicts rose and said, "Chaplain, is that true? If what he has been singing is true, there is no hope for me, or for a lot of us here." The broken-hearted convict resumed his seat with a sob.
Peter Bilhorn realized the validity of the man's deeply felt protest, but it was too late to explain. He returned to his home with the realization that the convict was right and the song was wrong. Did Scripture not say, "Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more" (Romans 5:20)? A few days later Peter Bilhorn added two verses to the song to correct the error. Now the song ended like this:
But the soul that comes to Jesus/ Is saved from every sin.
And the heart that fully trusts Him/ Shall a crown of glory win.
Then come to the dear Redeemer/ He will cleanse you from every stain,
By the grace that He freely gives you/ You shall soar as high again.
Now the song was correct. But that is not the end of the story. Almost twenty years later, a colonel in the U. S. Army approached Mr. Bilhorn at a YMCA gathering.
"You don't remember me, but I remember you," the colonel said. "You visited Fort Madison prison eighteen years ago, and sang about a bird with a broken wing. I am the man who asked you if it was true. When you came again and sang the added verses, I gave my heart to Christ, and was able to rise. By God's grace one can `higher soar again.' " (4)
This is the message of the Gospel. All of humanity is in need. Along comes one whose self-giving love can meet that need. Now we soar on mended wings. Those of us who have experienced that self-giving love in our lives can go from this place to share that love with all we meet.
A man lies in an inn located by the side of the desolate and rocky road that leads from Jerusalem down to Jericho. Sunlight streams into his room as he begins to stir. "Where am I? How did I get here? Now I remember. I was lying beside the road, battered and bleeding, nearly dead. The last thing I remember was a man with a kindly face who approached me. Evidently he bound up my wounds and brought me to this inn. But who paid for my stay? Was it he? Why? Why did he do it? What was it that caused him to show such kindness? Was he of my class? My religion? My nationality? It doesn't matter. He saved my life. He saved my life. Oh, God, have mercy upon me. Let me never forget that once I lay in a ditch and somebody cared. Let me never forget that I received such self-giving love and give me the opportunity some time, some place, to pass that love on to another. Amen.
1. Ruth Bell Graham, LEGACY OF A PACK RAT, (Nashville, Tennessee: Oliver-Nelson Books, 1989).
2. Alex Thien in the MILWAUKEE SENTINEL, 4/23/91.
3. MISTREATED (Portland, Multnomah, 1989).
4. Henry Durbanvill, THE BEST IS YET TO BE, (Edinburgh: Barbour, 1950), pp. 16-18. Cited in J. Oswald Sanders, ENJOYING YOUR BEST YEARS, (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Discovery House Publishers, 1993).