“If I do not stop to help him, what will happen to him?”
25 On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
26 “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”
27 He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’[a]; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[b]”
28 “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”
29 But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
30 In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. 31 A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii[c] and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’
36 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
37 The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25-37, NIV)
As someone who grew up in a city notorious for giving out little to no snow days (we had to trek through mountains of brown snow for ‘delayed openings’), there’s always a thrill in my heart when there’s a snow day. Sure, I may not go to school anymore, and I may not experience it the same way (thank you, remote work), but they still bring me joy.
This snow day, however, as I sit in safety and shelter in the midst of a polar vortex, my heart is heavy.
There’s a lot of things happening in the world that we live in. We live in a world of deep, deep polarity, exacerbated by deep gaps in wages, value of human life, and opportunity. Better yet, we live with the paradoxical reality where the world is at our fingertips but we never have to leave the house. The ornate and complex, shiny hunk of metal in our hands tracks our rhythms, inclinations, and proclivities, puts it into an algorithm, and spits out more of what we want to see and hear. A version of the world that we like—vast but cushy.
I have to be honest with you.
With the world that we live in, and everything that’s going on in our country right now— I’m not okay. Personally, I’m struggling a lot.
I remember revering the sermons and orations of passionate religious figures that said that God is not for one people group, but for everyone. I always wanted to be the kind of believer that could speak truth to power with strength and grace and peace. I remember thinking that, if a person talked, sure, maybe it would be hard to listen, but if God talked through a person? The stories of Billy Graham’s voice reverberating for miles, one sermon becoming so famous it would later be made into a book… all through the hands of everyday people that were saved by Jesus. I lived for these stories of courage and zeal and worship.
I guess I’m not okay because I have no idea what’s going on, and I want to be like the people of God that have come before, and I’m not moving like I want to, and feel like I need to.
Maybe it’s all the blasted time I spend on my phone. Maybe my heart has been discipled to being exposed enough to be in pain, but not translate the pain into my action. I’m frustrated at myself. When I was little, I was so sure I would be different. I was so sure I would inevitably be so moved, so convicted by now, and stand for what I believed in, even if it came at great cost to my life.
As a married woman, with parents and a husband to take care of, with people that I feel responsible for, I realize that courage comes at great cost. What if something happened to me? What would come of my parents, my family, my husband? Who would take care of my family?
I now am only starting to understand the deep, deep cost of bright-eyed prayers I would whisper before bed in my youth. “God, help me to follow you, no matter what it takes.” No matter what it takes… I miss the girl who could pray this so easily, before she knew what that even meant.
MLK Jr delivered a speech the day before he was assassinated (I do prefer “martyred,” since he was a reverend). He was feverish and ill; he had opted out of speaking that day, but after Abernathy had gotten a glimpse of the people who had gathered, he went back to Reverend King and said, “They’re here to see you, Martin.”
This speech, haunting and telling of MLK’s heart, reverberated through the hearts of the Church and was immortalized in his martyrdom only the day afterwards, on April 4th, 1968.
In this speech, Rev. King speaks about the danger of fighting for what he believed in. He encourages the people of God not to use violence, and instead speak truth to power. He encourages the people to put their dollars towards businesses they believe in most, and exhorts everyone to “develop a kind of dangerous unselfishness.”
And then he speaks about the Parable of the Samaritan. All of a sudden, you realize that this pastor is preaching a sermon.
He explains the parable. He speaks about the man that wanted to thwart Jesus and outsmart him. He asks, “Who is my neighbor?” And Jesus gives the parable. He speaks plainly about the man who fell among thieves. And then Rev. King zeroes in, not on the man lying on the side of the road, but on the Levite and the Priest who passed by and didn’t stop to help the man. He begins to ask why these people did not help the man. Were they busy? Was there a religious ceremony they had to meet? Maybe they were going to fix the roads instead, deal with the problem a different way and get to the root of the matter instead of being preoccupied with an individual effort for the man.
But then King says, “But I'm going to tell you what my imagination tells me. It's possible that these men were afraid.” He shares about the time that he and his wife were on the road, and talked about how the roads was meandering, with a lot of unexpected twists and turns, going down below sea level, and how he could see why Jesus had the parable set there. Rev. King mentions here that this road was called the Bloody Pass. Maybe the Levite and the Priest were afraid that they would get hurt too, and the robbers were nearby. There’s too much at stake, and perhaps they asked, “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?”
But the Good Samaritan comes by. Here’s what Rev. Dr. King spoke about the Good Samaritan:
“But then the Good Samaritan came by. And he reversed the question: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?"
That's the question before you tonight. Not, "If I stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to all of the hours that I usually spend in my office every day and every week as a pastor?" The question is not, "If I stop to help this man in need, what will happen to me?" "If I do not stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to them?" That's the question.”
I don’t know how to make meaning of this without being so, so scared. As a child of immigrants, I know that my countenance is othered in this country I call home. My family is made up of immigrants, and I’m one of few young people in my family that can take care of the generation that came before. I think of my father and mother, my chosen family, my mother and father in-law, aunts and uncles... All I pray for is that an angry ICE officer doesn’t cross their path. Everyday, I wake up in the morning and pray for their safety.
Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. also stood in the face of death. In fact, what makes this sermon so haunting is that in his final comments, Rev. King noted a time where he almost died. He mused on the very real threat to his life all the time, and asked, “What will happen to me?”
Here’s the last paragraph of his last words, right after he told the story of the stabbing and the real threats on his life:
“Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”
I know that this is a rare opportunity for our congregation to rest. But I would love for us as a congregation to put our reasoning aside and look upon the man on the ground. It is not comfortable to do this. It is inconvenient. And I am still struggling to move myself. But this isn’t just about being right or wrong. At some point, we can no longer twist the ministry of Jesus to suit our season. God is very, very clear about what it looks like to love your neighbor. And some of us in the Church may interpret this differently, but as someone who doesn’t know how not to comment on the “original language” every Sunday, I think Scripture is crystal clear here.
To love your neighbor is to be inconvenienced and uncomfortable. It’s to recognize the imago dei in one another and care about what is right. To love your neighbor is to ask, “If I do not stop to help them, what will happen to them?”
And as we live in a world that constantly keeps record of our actions and words, when my grandchildren’s children look back on the words their ancestors wrote, I pray that they are able to read of a daughter of the Most High that chose courage and inconvenience to do what was right, no matter what it took.
Unfortunately, my fear most days has me in a stalemate. I’m not able to move easily. I don’t know what the right thing to do is. But I’m hoping that we can weep, wrestle, scream, fight through, and move together as a Body towards the things that the Father’s heart breaks for. I’m praying that we would be able to remember Rev. King and see the Peace of Jesus Christ more clearly together.
This doesn’t mean that you’re not a Christian or that you aren’t loved by God if you wrestle! God paid for our weakness, our folly, our brokenness on the cross, once and for all. And we don’t do these things to curry favor with the Lord. He knows us. He knows our every inclination. He knows where we are strong and where we are weak. He knows where our hearts are most prone to idleness and wandering. And He paid for all that on the cross. We love because we are loved first (1 Jn 4:19-20), and this love covers a multitude of sins (1 Ptr 4:8; Prov 10:12). You and I are inevitably, irrevocably covered in the grace of God.
That, and it’s still true that to walk with Him is to be led by Him where we would not go on our own. We can be led by Him because no matter how painful our situations may be, or no matter how powerless we feel, our hope is that the Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness could not overcome it (Jn 1:5).
I pray that we would allow our hearts to be searched and found, that we would submit our anxious thoughts unto the Lord, and follow in the footsteps of brothers and sisters who have come before us to say, “I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”
7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.23 Search me, God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
24 See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting. (Ps 139:7-12; 23-24, NIV)
Photo: Caption reads, "Martin Luther King press conference / [MST]." Original black and white negative by Marion S. Trikosko. Taken August 26th, 1964, Washington D.C, United States (@libraryofcongress). Colorized by Jordan J. Lloyd. Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA https://www.loc.gov/item/2003688129/
