Red Letters – Modern-day Samaritan – April 24

RED LETTERS
April 24, 2021

Modern-day Samaritan

Luke 10:33-35, ‘”A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man’s condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. The he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill—I’ll pay you on my way back.”’ (MSG)

One thing had led to another. Life had once glowed bright, a flashing neon sign in a dark night on a forgotten road, a brilliant reflection of sun reverberating off a sliver of metal, a thousand diamonds’ buoyancy mirrored from the lapping waves at sunset. Suddenly, she was gone, tragically, unexpectedly; then the friends left too, followed by the job, and the home was the last to close its warped doors. Things like friends and jobs don’t last without effort and perseverance, and a home is only where the heart is. When the heart goes, the home is soon to follow.
So he found himself on the corner of Mislaid Avenue and Meander Lane. He didn’t like the street corner and he hated the drugs even more. But the haze covered over a multitude of memories and the crossroad where he landed soon became familiar and comfortable. What little he had left, he hid in a pillow where he laid his head, and hey, everything he needed now was within reach, a liquor store there, a convenience store here, a portable potty to his right and a bench belonging to the town park to his left. Everywhere harsh and cold and hardened, like him.
That’s where they got him. Just another hand-me-down on a forgotten corner with a sad story. They beat him and left him for dead, helping themselves to his keepsakes and what few dollars remained. Stripped of his pillow, he cried when it snowed feathers. The pain of busted ribs, a split lip, blackened eyes and a battered body was nothing compared to the broken heart that still beat for her in his chest. There wasn’t even enough left inside of him to cry.
The storeowners closed their doors and louvered their blinds. He was just another drunk. The party-goers stepped over him, chatting up their Friday nightclub plans which drowned out his moans. The police rushed by on their way to more important people’s emergencies. Even the Church-in-the-Park leaders, hosted by the church he and his wife once-upon-a-time attended, looked the other way. On occasion, one of them had waved in his direction over the weeks since he inhabited the corner, and once, a kind lady had brought him a bowl of food. But he had become a standard fixture on a forlorn slab of concrete; it was easier just to turn away.
His eyes were so swollen he couldn’t see very clearly but suddenly he stiffened. Were they back for more? He had heard the footsteps stop. Then, “Daddy, what is wrong with him?” the little girl’s voice was like a crystal glass being filled with fine wine. Even his body was too tired and sad to be humiliated. “I don’t know, baby,” came a deep throated reply. “But Daddy we must do something to help him!”
Suddenly, he felt a light covering blanket him and a soft breath on his cheek. The little girl’s daddy pried open his eyes and he couldn’t help when a tear squeezed out. “He’s alive, Daddy!” she exclaimed, and her daddy nodded as he gently washed his face with a wipe. “Here’s my coat too, Daddy! For a pillow,” her words smiled.
He wanted to protest; it was cold out but he was so very tired of being alone, the words eluded him. He tried to murmur but she shushed him; all of his words hid and he couldn’t find them anywhere. Maybe he had been buried in the cracks on the sidewalk for so long but suddenly the kindness was nudging something inside of him he had lost.
He felt himself being lifted; safe arms carried him. The sound of tiny footprints followed, and he knew the little girl was nearby. A stream of tears fled from his eyes and he couldn’t make them stop. He felt grace like a warm meal on a cold night, mercy like a cool breeze on a hot day.
“Daddy, where are we going to take him?” she asked. “Where he can get some help, baby.” “Are we going to stay with him, Daddy?” “As long as it takes, baby.” “Will Mommy mind?” “No, baby. Your mommy will be so proud of you for wanting to help this man.” “Will it be ‘pensive?” she asked. “It doesn’t matter, baby. It would cost even more to walk away.” “O-tay, Daddy. Yippee!” her singsong voice danced.

The man rounded the corner. Abruptly, he stopped. On the edge of life, a figure lay by the wayside. Slight movement and moans came from an otherwise silent heap. He rushed to the mound of a man, knelt next to him, and gingerly began to assess his condition. “Man, I’m here. You don’t know me but I am not here to harm you; I am here to help you instead. It’s going to be okay. I got you.” He shook his head as if to clear the memories, but the echo was such a loud beat in his heart that it seemed just like yesterday. “Daddy, we must do something to help him!” her words resounded in his mind. Years had passed but the memory never would.

Luke 9:37b, ‘Jesus said, “Go and do the same.”’

I’ve been reading RED LETTERS all my life, but never with my heart.
During the month of April, let’s JOURNEY where JESUS journeyed,
and listen with our hearts to all He came to proclaim.