Won't You Be My Neighbor

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Luke 10:25-36

Let’s unpack the pieces of this familiar parable told by Jesus:

1.    Went DOWN from Jerusalem to Jericho (we learned from Pastor’s study of the Psalms that when the Jews went to the synagogue, they went UP calling blessings, and psalms to each other as they journeyed. So, coming DOWN from Jerusalem implies that the festival or feast had been completed and so were the duties and responsibilities of the Levitical priesthood. We can assume they were heading home.

2.    It must have been a familiar route home because thieves knew about it and attacked a man along the way. They stripped him, wounded and robbed him, leaving him for dead.

3.    The priest and the Levite not only ignored his plight. They even moved to the other side of the road to pass him by. I have heard it preached that they could not minister if they were unclean. I don't think this is the case in this instance.

4.    A certain Samaritan had compassion on the beaten man and did not pass him by. I have always been irritated that the Priest and Levite did nothing to assist this half-dead man until I realized this: THE MINISTRY TO THE ROBBED AND BEATEN MAN WAS NOT THEIR INTENDED MINISTRY. GOD HAD SOMEONE ELSE IN MIND. The Samaritan even waited to depart until the following day—so he didn’t just minister to the man’s body—he ministered to his soul and sense of well being.

5.    Let’s look at him: half Jew, half gentile and avoided by the Hebrew community. BUT—he was prepared for the journey—he had provisions enough to travel and even share. HE WAS  THE ONE CALLED TO BE THE MINISTER IN THIS PARABLE. HE IGNORED HIS PERSONAL SAFETY—THE SCRIPTURES DID NOT SAY IF THE THIEVES STUCK AROUND FOR ANOTHER VICTIM; MAYBE, MAYBE NOT. And this outcast Samaritan had compassion. for the victim.

6.    He ministered to the victim by binding wounds, with the pouring oil and wine, provided transportation, and took him to a local inn where he left him to recover and even paid the bill. He went the second mile and assured the innkeeper he would be returning and would repay any debt still incurred.  He used oil--symbolic of the Holy Spirit and wine--symbolic of the healing blood of Jesus.

7.    To the atheist—we are ignorant and uninformed. To the non-Pentecostal, we are the “holy rollers.” To the Hebrew we are GOY. We are a type of the Samaritan. The Word tells the lawyer who started this conversation—to go and do likewise as a neighbor. Did their paths ever cross again? We don’t know, but it is an example to us to minister when the opportunity arises, without thought or planning—we minister as the need arises because Jesus has told us to do so.

Here is my Samaritan story--

“Behold, the LORD'S hand is not shortened, that it cannot save; neither His ear heavy, that it cannot hear:” Isaiah 59:1 KJV.”
^“ For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
 They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. Psalms 91: 11-12.” KJV.
    We know God makes arrangements for our safety through His love and mercy toward us and provides guardian angels to protect us in times of danger. His Word affirms that. But, what if the angels are busy? Then He may have to rely on us to do His work. And that’s when a miracle can take place.
 
            The week before Father’s Day, I left the gym with two things in mind: get Father’s Day cards and go further down the road to get gas. Since the gym routine often left me wabbly, I felt this little nudge in my spirit to pull into the Dollar General and get the cards first. I did have gas. I was unknowingly headed for a Divine Appointment where God used ordinary people to see that a miracle was accomplished.
           
    As I got into the checkout lane, an African-American lady was leaving just in front of me. She had moved her buggy over and I thought she was shuffling through her yellow bags for something. I didn’t think much about it. Women go through their purchases all the time.
 
            I paid for my cards, placed them in my hand in their yellow bag and headed back to the parking lot. There was that same lady sitting in the trunk of her car with a man standing nearby. Her few bags were scattered around her and this gentleman was slightly bent toward her.
 
            “Do we have a problem?” I asked.
 
            The gentleman replied, “she has diabetes and is having sugar low.” I immediately opened my purse, unzipped my pink dotted bag filled with peppermints, both hard and soft. I opened them for her and placed them in her hand. She could hardly manage a tiny “thank you.”
 
    She did not improve as quickly as sugar usually works. I placed my hand on her back, bent from the terror of being alone in a public location with low blood sugar. “Ma’am, I don’t think you should be driving like this. Let me drive you home.”
 
            The gentleman then immediately responded, “And I can bring you back to get your car.” She did not protest at all and I knew her life was in a desperate condition and that I would need help. She was as gray colored as I have ever seen.  I got into the driver’s seat, having to practically double up to get into that little Chevy Cruze. The gentleman helped her into the car and said to me, “I’ll follow you.”
            As I buckled in, I asked her name. “Mary” she answered in an almost inaudible voice. I did not ask her if we could pray. I felt my time was too short. I laid my hands on her and began to call upon our Father to restore her sugar levels and return her to the normalcy she had had in her mother’s womb.
 
            Then, we began to drive. In her confusion, she told me the wrong street, but corrected herself stating that her daughter stayed on that street. We made it to her apartment.  She tried to give me ten dollars to be split with the gentleman which tells you her mental state. You can't cut or tear a 10 dollar bill and share it. And I refused. She wanted me to split it with the gentleman; another indication that her sugar was way off normal. I said, “no, ma’am. My Father would be displeased if I took any money from you.”
 
            Then she responded, “but I have money.”
 
            I answered, “Yes, ma’am. I know you do, but God sent me to help you and it would be disrespectful to Him to take your money.” She was still very, very, very gray in color. I hoped I was not going to have to drive her to the hospital. And what if this stranger fully  collapsed? What would I say—driving her in her own car?
 
    The gentleman helped her into the house and I got her groceries. She was able to unlock her front door and we helped her inside. The gentleman got the cola she had in one of her bags and poured it into a cup sitting on her table, complete with a straw. Then she said she was eighty years old and her daughter would fuss if she knew she had gone to the store without eating. I gasped and made her promise to never, ever do that again. She called her daughter and no one answered, but she assured both of us her daughter would call when she saw the number come up on her screen.
 
    Suddenly, she sat upright and smiled. It was the first indication that this low sugar episode was passing. We stayed a few minutes more, but being a diabetic, I knew the worst of the storm had passed. She stated, “I’ll be alright now.” I asked if she wanted us to move her to her couch to lie down and she declined. We still stood around, unwilling to leave until we were certain Mary would be okay without us.
 
    As we climbed into the gentleman’s car, we chatted a little on the return to get my own car. He was a Vietnam vet, telling of marshing through that unbelievable jungle climate. I told him I had been a school teacher. As we parked next to my car at the Dollar General, we shook hands and parted ways; probably never to see each other again.
 
    Am I grateful I am a diabetic? No, of course not, but I was glad that day. I was prepared. I had provisions and transportation and I knew the road I was traveling. Romans 8:28 states, “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.” I would rather not have diabetes. However, there would have been no peppermints in my purse, a tiny, small start to rescuing a child for the Most High God.

 

        Choosing not to get gas first saved someone’s life. My Father was allowing me to share in a miraculous Divine Appointment; all because I chose the store first rather than the gas station. I want to always be able to heed that little nudging the Holy Spirit often gives us. Maybe the Samaritan felt that same Holy Ghost nudge. We know almost nothing about him.

God’s arm is not short and His ears hear well and there are multitudes of angels at His disposal 24/7, 365. But there are times as His children He wants us to know we matter to others and see the bigger picture of living. I am glad Mary is ok and I don’t think I would recognize my partner in this adventure/miracle should I ever see him again. But I learned something: miracles are all about timing. And being the uneducated, holy roller, goy that I am, I can be used by the Father when He calls on me and asks. And I can be the Samaritan without shame or scorn, but as a child of the Father, willing to do His bidding when called.

He poured out the oil and the wine; the kind that restoreth my soul. He found me bleeding and wounded on the Jericho Road and he poured out the oil and the wine.