[The Midweek Encounter is a ministry of Encounter Church in Kentwood, MI. These posts are reflections on Sunday's message, which can be heard here each week: http://myencounterchurch.org/#/messages-media]
Have you ever thought that Jesus’ parables—the stories that
he tells—can sometimes be a bit dramatic? I mean, imagine that you’re in a
foreign land, just passing through, and you find yourself in a particularly
dangerous part of town. You’re already nervous because you know that people are
often robbed in the area, and then you come across a naked, half-dead body.
What would you do? This is the premise of Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan,
and I’ll admit that at first read it can seem a bit far-fetched.
But, just as every story in the Bible points to Jesus, so
too does Jesus’ own parable point to the truth of who he is. Jesus is the one
who came into a hostile land, was cruelly murdered in it, and then pledged to
return in order to redeem the very people who executed him.
Jesus lived out an impossibly far-fetched, radical love, and
he challenged us to go and do the same. While some of us may cringe at the
thought of bandaging the seeping wounds of a stranger, especially a stranger encountered
in a dangerous and foreign place, there can be many permutations of this work.
I don’t think we necessarily have to risk personal safety to
be like the Good Samaritan, but we have to risk something for the gospel.
Perhaps it’s social danger. Perhaps we befriend the person who everyone thinks
is a little strange, or socially awkward, or too different. Perhaps the risk is
actually inviting that neighbor or co-worker to church. Perhaps we spend our
money differently and live in a smaller home or drive an older car so that we
have more money to give away, all the while enduring the judgement from
colleagues who take nicer vacations or live in a more desirable zip code. Perhaps
we stand up for a stranger who is suffering under discrimination, or follow the
holy spirit’s prompting to post something risky but true to social media.
The Lord asked us to go and do. Go and do.
Sometimes the risk might be our own personal satisfaction. Through
his church, my dad has been delivering Thanksgiving meal baskets to families
who qualify for a free meal through a local program. My dad purchases the “traditional”
(to him) Thanksgiving dinner items—a turkey with a disposable roasting pan,
seasonings, vegetables and stuffing, rolls, and a pie, and drops the meal off (with
cooking instructions in case any of the food is unfamiliar) at the family’s
home. A few years ago, my dad dropped off a basket to a family who opened the
door, took the basket, and slammed the door shut without saying a single word.
My dad was a bit surprised by the reception, but he got back into his car and
continued delivering baskets of food around the community. Jesus didn’t tell us
to offer kindness, hospitality, or gospel to people who express gratitude in a
manner that fulfills our own cultural expectations.
The Lord asked us to go and do. Go and do.
It can be tempting to ask what the minimum threshold is for
living a selfless life. What’s the minimum commitment I can make to charitable
giving, volunteering, hosting, or sharing? What’s the least I can do to be
neighborly? The challenge, according to Jesus, is not to limit ourselves to the
minimum, but rather to push ourselves to the maximum. What’s the greatest sacrifice
I can possibly make of my finances, my time, my home, my influence, my
knowledge, my resources? As Dirk preached on Sunday, people are not an
interruption or an inconvenience. People are an invitation to love as Jesus
loves.
After all, Jesus is the only one who went and did,
perfectly.
[Kristin vanEyk loves partnering with the people and the mission of Encounter Church. Learn more about Encounter or listen to Sunday's message here.]
[Kristin vanEyk loves partnering with the people and the mission of Encounter Church. Learn more about Encounter or listen to Sunday's message here.]
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