“A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.”
I pulled out of the driveway, headed to my second day at my new job. It had snowed that night and the roads were slippery, so I left early. About 5 miles from home, I hit a patch of ice and lost control of the car. I don’t remember everything, but I remember spinning into oncoming traffic, going up an embankment, and hitting a guardrail before the car shuddered to a stop.
“And by chance there came down a certain priest that way:and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.”
I somehow managed to stop shaking enough to call Daddy. I somehow managed to calm down enough to put on my hazards. I somehow managed to notice a highway patrol truck pass by me.
“And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.”
I got out of the car after a long line of cars and trucks passed me. I stood outside, looking at the damage, and watched a tow truck pass by me.
“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him…”
I felt alone, abandoned, and afraid. Daddy was coming, but until he got there, I was by myself with a car that was making funny noises. There was no Good Samaritan in this story. And it made me think, would I have stopped? If I had been on the other side of the road at 7:20 on Tuesday would I make sure the driver of the little brown car was ok? Would I call the accident in? How important is my neighbor to me?
Honestly, the answer right now is, “No”. I would not have stopped. I would have been more scared about my own safety than whoever was in that car. And I don’t know if I ever will stop. But I know that I’m asking God to give me a Samaritans heart, one that has compassion on other, and not only when they obviously need help, but when their cries aren't audible.
Also, always wear a seatbelt.