The Good Samaritan 2006

There once was a man traveling between two large cities. He decided to take his adventure by foot, after all it was a beautiful day; and there was much to see on his journey. The man jostled along, making good time, hoping that he would make his reservations at the motel, maybe then he could catch a bite to eat at the local diner; not the least bit aware that just around the bend, a gang of ruffians was waiting to rid some poor stranger of the burden of his pocket book. As the man rounded the corner he noticed that the birds were no longer singing; he noticed that the crickets had fallen silent, no longer did he desire to take this road. He looked at his watch and quickened his pace; the afternoon was wearing on. As he looked ahead in the blinding sun, he saw two or three burly fellows walking his way. He glanced behind and saw several other menacing creatures hastening behind him. He broke into a run, but it was too late. The gang enclosed him tightly in a circle. He cried for help, but help did not come. They began to strike him on the head, some had baseball bats, others picked up whatever they could find. As quickly as it began, it was over. A bloody mass of what used to be a man sprawled on the edge of the road. Was this the end, he thought, as he lay unable to move? The day wore on and his condition did not improve. The half-dead man felt the dried blood on his bareback. They had taken it all-money, clothes, his dignity. As he lay on the side of the road, his heart began to beat slower and slower. But wait, what was that, strange sound, thud-thud-thud. Was that footsteps? They are stopping. Praise God, they are stopping. The man screams for help, not realizing that the screams are only in his mind. He lies motionless. Soon the steps move again, this time a little swifter and they sound more distant. The man thinks, “Did he see me? Maybe he is going for help.” As his eyes flutter open, through the caked blood he sees the figure of a man on the opposite side of the road. My, is he dressed nicely in his black suit. With a Bible in one hand and a quick glance over his shoulder, he is gone. You see he is the pastor of a small church and he must prepare for this Sunday’s sermon. The pastor thinks, “If I only had time to stop and help this man, but I must be busy about the Lord’s work.” It seems like hours to the injured man, he tries to rise, but it feels as if every bone in his body is broken. Soon, he hears the sound of a car coming down the road. The car comes to a stop; he hears footsteps coming closer to him. His heart races with anticipation. Finally, his savior is here. But the steps stop, the car starts again, and as the fancy silver auto drives past, he faintly sees a man sitting in the drivers seat talking on his cell-phone. Surely he called the ambulance; surely he is trying to get help. The man takes comfort in this thought. But his trust is misplaced; this wealthy businessman is too concerned about the deal he is trying to close. What would his clients think of him if they saw him with this man?
As the day wears on, the sun gets hotter. The man begins to lose all hope. He drifts in and out of consciousness, unaware that another has stopped to see what is going on. However, this one does not pass by. He grabs a water bottle, but the man is unresponsive. He tears his shirt and begins binding the man’s wounds. What little treatment he can give the man, he gives. Then he puts him in his own car caring not about the upholstery as the caked wounds flow again, damaging his interior. The man immediately races to the nearest hospital. The sound of the nurse and her questions seems so unimportant right now. She is a little apprehensive, you see this helpful man is a little different. He does not look like a local, in fact his skin is a little darker than most, and his accent betrays the fact that he is a foreigner. The nurse thinks that in these turbulent times, you can never be too sure about people. Especially foreigners But she does her job and asks the questions. He gives what little information he can. No, he is not a relative. Name? I don’t know. Payment? Here take my card. Whatever needs to be done to this man do it and I will pay for it. The philanthropic man is jolted back into reality when the nurse asks, “You’re not from around here, How do you know this man?” “I don’t, but he’s my neighbor”
“Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbor unto him that fell among the thieves? And he said, ‘He that showed mercy on him.’ Then said Jesus unto him, ‘Go, and do thou likewise.’” Adapted from Luke 10:25-37.