Ordained and holy walks by, sniffing in contempt.
Attendant and proud sees and quickly leaves, lest he is sullied.
Despised and detested comes. He draws near. Here lies the enemy, broken. Filled with compassion he stoops. Pours out. Seeks healing. Comforts. Lifts up.
The law looks and has no pity.
Grace comes and has no end to his compassion.
I marvel at the term of good.
Good is not what is expected: public, proud.
Rather good is grace from the detested. Pity from the despised.
Jesus asks “Which was the neighbor?”
The expert in the law replies,”The one who had mercy.”
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”
Who is my neighbor? Who do I despise, detest? Who lies broken in my life? That is the one I am to attend to. Comfort. Bandage. Have pity on. Extend grace towards.
I was the one laying in the road, robbed and broken. The Good Samaritan came to me. Comforted. Brought healing to my wounds. I am whole, because of Him.
Who am I to walk casually by?
I, too, must stoop. For that is good.