Written by HARV MATCHULLIS (used with permission)

Sometimes a story becomes so familiar we gloss over it assuming we already know the answer.  It’s the video we pull off the shelf, already knowing the end of the story.  It can be the family tradition that continues to be repeated, year after year because of the warmth it brings to the soul. Yet rarely do we expect these experiences to say anything new to us.  We know the ending.

Jesus was asked a familiar question. It wasn’t intended to entrap him. This man was posturing with the audience. His question was one to which he already knew the academic answer. He wasn’t motivated by a desire to discover something new. Rather, in asking, he sought to impress the crowd with his depth of spiritual inquiry.

We know his question.  We also know his answer and we know the answer Jesus gave.  It is familiar.  It is like a warm blanket on a cold night. Familiar, predictable - but tell it again.  

“Jesus, what do I need to do to inherit eternal life?” - What does it say in God’s Law?

“Love God completely and love my neighbour as myself. - Who is my neighbour?”

“I’ll tell you a story,” says Jesus.

A man was mugged and left for dead on a deserted road. A priest came by and saw him but did nothing.  So too did a Levite, a man who worked in the temple. Eventually a Samaritan came by.  This was a man whose ancestors rejected God.  They intermarried with other nations and worshipped other gods. This man, a Jew would utterly reject.  Yet this man cared for the victim, broken in body, nearly dead. He brought him to an inn.  He nursed him through the night. He left cash for his needs to be met and pledged to reimburse any additional expense.  This man, did that.

“Which was the neighbour for the victim?” - The one who had mercy on him. 

A comforting story.  A familiar story.  A story I have completely misunderstood for most of my life.

What was the original question? “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” And what does this story have to do with that question?

I had assumed this story was more about the second question. “Who is my neighbour?” It is, but in the context of the first question. 

This might be a good time to get a Bible and turn to Luke 10:25-37 and follow the progression.  The questions are:

“What must I do to inherit eternal life?” (v.25)

“What is written in the Law?” (v. 26) Answer: Love God and my neighbour.

“Who is my neighbour?” (v.29)

“Which of these three do you think was a neighbour to the man? (v.36)

Part of the answer to the first question is that I must love my neighbour.  Who is the neighbour in this story?  The Samaritan. But that is not my familiar answer.  That isn’t the warm blanket for me.  It’s supposed to be the wounded guy.  I felt comfortable knowing that I can help the abused and broken.  But that isn’t what is actually said here.  What is actually said is that I need to love the one who found me broken and dying, helpless and vulnerable.  In loving that person, I am to “go and do likewise.”

For most of my life the story of the Good Samaritan was about loving the broken.  In reality, it is a story that explains what I must do to inherit eternal life.  Only when I recognize that I would have died at the side of the road, that I have received mercy and given another chance at life, only then do I fully realize the gift given to me.  Only then, am I able to understand why I should bind up the wounds of the broken.

And just when I thought I knew how the story ended, God’s Spirit changed the plot. Jesus reminds us again in this parable, that apart from him, we can do nothing.

“So what do people get in this life for all their hard work and anxiety? Their days of labor are filled with pain and grief; even at night their minds cannot rest. It is all meaningless”.   Ecclesiastes 2:22-23 NLT

Quit what?  

“Quit trying.” ~  Quit trying to do what?  

“Quit trying to be a Christian.” ~ What?  Are you insane?  Do you know what people are going to say if they hear me say that?  Do you know what could happen?  They’ll say I’ve denied my faith.  And what if they’re right? What if I end up denying that you exist at all? You want me to quit?  I don’t know you.  You are not the package I have been sold my entire life.  You are supposed to be predictable.  How can you ask me to quit?  I have to do my part.  I have to do your will.  I have to be holy like you are holy.  You even said so yourself.

“Walk with me.” ~  I don’t know how.  

“Try putting one foot ahead of the other.  Don’t look way down the trail.  Start with just one foot in front of the other.” ~  But where are we going?  

“Does it matter?” ~  Of course it matters!  What if I go to the wrong place?  What if I don’t go where I am supposed to go? What if I mess up everything by wandering off?  

“If you are wandering off with me, can you really mess up?  How wrong can you be if I am walking with you?” ~ You don’t know me.  You don’t know what others say or could say.  

“Which is it?  What others say? Or, what others could say?” ~  A bit of both I guess.  I’ve had a few who thought I was a bit heretical.  

“Are they the norm?” ~ No.  But I fear what others might say.

“How much of your life do you live in fear of what other’s might say?” ~  A lot actually.  

“Why do you think that is?” ~ Because I want them to like me.  I want to be valued.  I want people to think that I am wise and smart.  I want to feel like I am good at something and that my life has meaning.  That I am good enough to be special.

“What if I told you that you didn’t need to do anything to be special?  What if I could help you believe that you were special because I made you that way?”  ~ ... I don’t know.  I have spent my whole life believing that I had to measure up.  What do I do if I don’t have to prove my significance?

“Try putting one foot ahead of your other one.” ~  That’s it!  That’s all you’re going to tell me?  I need to know what I need to do.  I need to know where I am going. I need to know the expectations that I have to fulfill so that I don’t screw it up and end up looking foolish or worse, stupid, incompetent, immature ~ just ordinary David ~ nobody special.

“How far down the road did you just run?  I can hardly see you you’re so far away.  From my vantage point, you are already down in that far away valley and you ran there all by yourself; alone.  You can’t see Me there because I didn’t walk with you there.” ~ I just want to please you.  I just want to know I am doing it right.  I don’t want to have more failure in my life.

“You seem to be focused on your inabilities, your failures, your fears, your needs, your wants, your achievements, your recognition, your value... Do you notice the one thing these all have in common?” ~ Cut it out! That’s not fair. Don’t twist what I say.  I am trying to please you.  I am trying to live the Christian life.  I want to be a good follower of Jesus.  Don’t make light of my pain and don’t make light of my effort.

“That’s good.  Get it out.” ~  God ... You’re supposed to correct me.  You’re supposed to tell me that I am not to question you; that it is sacrilege to talk to you like this.  You’re supposed to do the Charlton Heston thing on the mountain - booming voice of God shouting, ‘Thou Shalt Not Mess With God!’

“I love you David. I love you just the way you are.  I love your brokenness.  I love your struggle even when it took you to sin.  I love your heart and the genuine desire to know me.  I love your confusion that resulted in you chasing down roads that left you dirty and sometimes bleeding. Ultimately you dead-ended in places where you knew you needed to re-trace your steps back to this place.”    ~ And where is this place exactly? 

“It is where I AM.”  ~ Oh God ... I am afraid of this place.  It is a place that I cannot manipulate.  It is holy.  In this place I have no pretense.  You know me here.  I am dirty.  The pedestals I have stood on are cheap trinkets and the praises of others have a putrid smell.  God, in this place I am nothing. 

“David, my son.  You are my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.” ~ Look at me!  I am filth.  My whole attention is in self-absorption.  My whole life has been all about me.  How can you say you are pleased with me?

“Do you honestly believe that I do not know who you are?  I formed you in your mother’s whom.  I knit you together.  I know the plans I have for you David.  They are not plans to harm and destroy.  They are plans to bring healing and wholeness.  No eye has seen.  No ear has heard.  No one has ever conceived what I have in store for you.  You are my cherished possession.  I love you with an everlasting love.  I have always loved you.  When you longed to be held, to be noticed, to be valued and cherished - I loved you.  

“Some in the spirit world do not. Some have intended to hurt you, wound you, break you. That will not happen. I AM has been with you even when you could not see and your ears could not hear.  Your brokenness will become your greatest strength.”

Have you ever stopped to realize that you have no secrets? Nothing about you surprises God.  His love for you is not conditioned to your response to him.  He loves you regardless of how you treat him.  If you obey him completely, he will not love you more than he has always loved you.  His love is perfect.  It is everlasting.

“Such love has no fear because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of judgment, and this shows that his love has not been perfected in us.  We love each other as a result of his loving us first.”

1 John 4:18-19

Something is going on inside of me.  Maybe it’s gaining clarity, but I find myself wanting more of it.

I am old enough to have transitioned through almost every stage of television technology.  Black & white with limited stations and hours; the tube; flat panel; high def; 

Blue Ray 3D (don’t own that one but have seen it).  The picture and experience gets better and better.  But no matter how profound the experience, I remain a spectator.  I can enter in but am still not a part.  It parallels my faith.  I recognize that the longing and the drawing I am experiencing is to become part of the screen play.

How can a person be drawn into the life and breath interaction with Jesus?  When can we distinguish between speaking about the authority of the Christ and speaking his authority?  When does petition move to dialogue?  

Jesus made a distinction between servants and friends.  The invitation was to friendship. I have thought about the difference.  How would my treatment of a servant, assuming I was the best of masters, differ from my relationship with a friend? (John 15:15)  Clearly friendship carries with it a greater level for freedom, entitlement and a different set of expectations.  Friendship relies heavily upon desire where servanthood rests on control.  Yet the posture of a servant is so frequently seen within Christendom.  Jesus himself took up a towel and washed feet.  Yet the profoundness of that act is only recognized when you realize that he was not required to do it.  He chose to do it out of love.  

Have I carried the wrong concept of servanthood into my faith journey? 

I have friends who tell me that we need the “Martha’s” of the Bible.  She was Mary’s sister who was doing all the work while Mary sat and listened to Jesus.  My friends tell me that without “Martha’s”, nothing would get done. So why does Jesus say that Mary has chosen the better thing? (Luke 10:38-42)  It simply isn’t true that “Mary’s” do not work.  I would suggest to you that the “Mary’s” of this world are the ones who have discovered the role of friend and the “Martha’s” still see themselves as servants.  Mary’s are the Mother Theresa’s.  Martha’s are the keepers of the institution.  They fulfill a job, a role, an obligation.

Much more will be done by the person who is responding because of love than the one who is acting out of duty.  Love trumps duty.

It is interesting though to have experienced so much resistance from friends on this very point.  I have come to believe that they have a very difficult time trusting love.  It can’t be controlled.  It can’t be demanded.  It is therefore impossible to predict and we do not have authority over it to force it to conform.  Because its starting point is love and not duty, it cannot be forced.  Once it responds based on coercion, it is no longer an act of love.  It is an act of duty performed by a servant, not a friend.

The difference between the two is that one finds himself as a spectator and the other in the screenplay.  You may have the latest technology but it still leaves you observer.  Somewhere there is a place of discovery in our faith, when realization comes and surrender is more complete. It is difficult to rest in the truth that we are loved, we are friends, we are intimate with God and he with us.  Yet faith is being part of the cast.  The most minuet role is more engaging than observation using the most sophisticated technology.

I could hear the surgeon’s saw as he cut off my knee joint.  An amputation in that sense.   I also heard the mallet hammer my titanium hinge into place.  No pain, just groggy awareness that somewhere in my lower parts some major surgery was taking place.  It was about a 6 week process of discovery.  

Laying in my hospital bed, my lower leg felt like an unfrozen ice pack; push on it and the indentations remained.  My nurse ordered me to work that trapped fluid out of my leg.  So diligently, I would rub and massage the gel textured liquid down towards my foot.  Two days passed with a growing pain and swelling in my ankle.  I asked my nurse again about it and she was shocked to hear that I was working it down towards my foot.

“It has no place to go down there.  You have to work it up your leg to the lymph nodes in the groin! Otherwise you are at serious risk of blood clotting.”  

What do the lymph nodes do?  They pass the unwanted material out of your body. Sounds logical doesn’t it.  But if you didn’t know that medical reality, the likelihood of you discovering it on your own is doubtful.

When “Love Your City” was just beginning, churches rented our city’s convention centre to host worship services each night for one week.  I remember sitting in my office with a growing desire to attend.  My week had been very full but there remained one window of opportunity, Friday night.  It required a choice between going up into the mountains for the weekend or attending the service.  My conscience quipped that one was a more spiritual decision than the other.   I frankly didn’t care.  I simply wanted to hear God and not miss that chance.  It could have happened in either place.

I decided to stay.  The service opened with a reading from Scripture that God had given to me in a very meaningful way as a teenager.  It followed with a couple of songs that were also deeply significant.  I remember thinking, “Well God, you have my attention.  I know I made the right decision so I’m listening.”  

Nothing jump off the page.  It ended.  “So God, why did you want me to come to this?”  I was actually a little disappointed.

I saw a pastor friend of mine assisting at the front of the auditorium so I thought we could have a word of prayer together before I went home.  He saw me coming.  I was within two feet of him when, without warning, I was literally hit with a wall of grief.  I have never experienced anything like it before or since.  Stumbling, I collapsed into him and he held me.  I began to sob at a gut wrenching level.  He just held me.  My life began to flash across my thoughts like a slide show.  I saw my sin played out in multiple slides.  I relived many genocides; evil things that I had experienced.  So much death and pain and suffering.  It went on and on.  I could hear people come up from behind, asking if I was demon possessed.  

I deeply appreciated his response.  It was quiet and gentle and he simply said, “No, just pray.  He has seen a lot.”

I was struck by the simplistic thinking of people who meant well but who completely missed the point of the situation.  But frankly, the experience itself was far too consuming for me to really care.  I wept for over 45 minutes non-stop.  It took me another 15 minutes to gain some sense of composure.  I will never forget my friend’s words.  He said, “You’re not done.”  I said, “Oh yes I am.”  He said, “No you’re not.”

I said to him, “I just can’t go through any more of this.  It is too much for me.”  He said, “I’ll walk with you.”  I said, “I will do anything you tell me to do.  Just don’t ask me to try to make a decision on my own.  I don’t have any strength left.”  And that began one of the many journeys I have been on as God heals me on the inside while increasing my ability to know who he is and what he is like.   

I have come to know and understand the purging of the filth that clutters the heart.  Without a doubt, tears are God’s lymph nodes of the soul.  Welcome them.  There are periods of time when weeping happens easily.  I used to try and gain control of those moments. They are meant to be the stress relievers of the heart and often cause other people to be uncomfortable around you.  We work hard to stop them, like massaging fluid down into your ankles instead of out of your body.  

Let them flow.  Tears have become a friend that leave me drained yet healthier.  Jesus understood their power.  He used the gift himself when he was at crossroads in his own heart.  In times of grief, sorrow or longing, Jesus allowed the tears to flow.