Halfway through the day is a good time to look up. The morning plans are behind us, the evening is still ahead, and somewhere in between are the people we’ll pass on the way.
Jesus told one of His best-known stories because of a question. A lawyer had just agreed that the heart of God’s law is to love God with everything and to love your neighbor as yourself. Then he tried to find the edges of that command:
“But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbour?” (Luke 10:29, KJV)
It’s a very human question. If I know exactly who counts as my neighbor, I also know who doesn’t. I can love inside the lines and feel fine about everyone outside them.
The man on the road
So Jesus tells a story. A man walking from Jerusalem down to Jericho is attacked, stripped, beaten, and left half dead. A priest comes by and passes on the other side. A Levite does the same. We aren’t told why. Maybe they were in a hurry. Maybe they were afraid the robbers were still nearby. Maybe they had good religious reasons. Jesus doesn’t argue with their reasons. He just shows us the distance they kept.
Then someone unexpected walks up the road:
“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.” (Luke 10:33–34, KJV)
Jews and Samaritans didn’t get along. Jesus’s listeners would have expected the Samaritan to be the villain of the story. Instead he’s the only one who stops.
Look at the verbs: he came where he was, he saw, he had compassion, he went, he bound up, he set him, he brought him, he took care of him. Love here isn’t a feeling that stays inside. It walks over, kneels down, and spends its own oil, its own wine, its own animal, its own money, its own afternoon.
Turning the question around
When the story ends, Jesus asks the lawyer a different question than the one he started with:
“Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves? And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.” (Luke 10:36–37, KJV)
The lawyer asked, Who is my neighbor? Jesus answers, Be a neighbor. The question is no longer about where the edges are. It’s about whether I will cross the road.
And there is something underneath the story, too. Many Christians through the centuries have seen Jesus Himself in the Samaritan. We were the ones lying on the road, wounded and unable to help ourselves. He was the one people looked down on, and He came where we were. He bound up our wounds. He paid what it cost. Before we are ever asked to love like this, we are loved like this.
Who is on your road today?
Most of us won’t find a stranger in a ditch this afternoon. But we will pass people. The coworker who seems quieter than usual. The neighbor who lives alone. The family member whose message we’ve been meaning to answer. The person in the checkout line who is clearly having a hard day.
Compassion usually doesn’t begin with a grand plan. It begins with seeing, with letting someone’s need actually register instead of sliding past it. Then it takes one small step toward them: a phone call, a meal, a few honest minutes of listening, a prayer said right there with them.
You won’t do it perfectly. The Samaritan didn’t fix everything either; he brought the man to an inn and came back later. Love is often just the next faithful step.
A midday prayer
Lord Jesus, thank You for coming where I was when I couldn’t help myself. Open my eyes this afternoon to the people You put on my road. Keep me from passing by on the other side. Give me a heart that sees, hands that help, and the courage to cross the road. Amen.