I have never written ‘Be interrupted’ in my diary.
There are appointments, deadlines and things I confidently believed would take twenty minutes. But nowhere have I scheduled a stranded stranger or someone beginning a phone call with, ‘Have you got a moment?’
We all know that a moment is not a recognised unit of telephone time. Yet some of the most worthwhile things we ever do begin with something we hadn’t planned.
I suspect the Good Samaritan had plans too. Jesus doesn’t tell us what they were. We know he was travelling, presumably hoping to arrive somewhere. He certainly hadn’t put ‘Find injured stranger and organise his recovery’ on his morning checklist.
But another person’s need changed his day.
He had somewhere to go, but he also had someone to love.
As the year gathers speed towards Advent and Christmas, that is worth making room for.
A question with consequences
In Luke 10 an expert in religious law asks Jesus about eternal life. Their conversation turns to loving God and loving our neighbour.
Then comes the question: ‘And who is my neighbour?’
We do like to establish the boundaries of our responsibilities. Who exactly is included? Where does the obligation end? And, presumably, can certain relatives be exempted?
Jesus answers with a story.
A man travelling from Jerusalem to Jericho is robbed, beaten and left half dead. A priest sees him and passes by on the other side. A Temple assistant does the same. Jesus doesn’t tell us their reasons. We can probably supply several. Most of us have a well-developed department for explaining why now isn’t a good time.
Then a Samaritan arrives.
For Jesus’ original listeners this was an unsettling choice of hero. Jews and Samaritans shared deep hostility. Yet the person they might have expected least from is the one who shows mercy. He sees the wounded man, feels compassion and goes to him. He treats his wounds, puts him on his own animal and takes him to an inn. His transport has become an ambulance.
Then he pays for the man’s care and promises to cover any further expense. That last detail is remarkable. Many of us feel nervous leaving a credit card open at a hotel for people we actually know.
His kindness costs time, comfort and money.
Compassion became real when it rearranged his day.
Jesus asks which traveller proved to be a neighbour. The answer is clear: the one who showed mercy.
‘Now go and do the same,’ Jesus says (Luke 10:37 NLT).
The man had asked whom he was required to love. Jesus showed him what love required of him.
The other side is convenient
It is easy to feel indignant with the two men who walked past. Then we remember spotting someone approaching and suddenly becoming fascinated by our phones. A blank screen can be surprisingly absorbing when a conversation looks expensive in minutes.
Most of us want to be kind. We would simply prefer kindness to fit between our existing commitments. We will have more time after this deadline. After this busy season. After Christmas.
‘After Christmas’ is a marvellous place. Apparently, we will all be rested, organised and available.
Meanwhile, people need love in the middle of our actual lives. The colleague who seems unusually quiet. The neighbour we haven’t seen recently. The friend whose cheerful answer sounds rehearsed. The person whose grief has outlasted everyone else’s attention.
People rarely need us at a convenient time. They need us at their difficult time.
We cannot meet every need. Love requires wisdom about what we can offer. The Samaritan involved the innkeeper, arranging continued care before travelling on.
We can listen, provide practical help or connect someone with people better equipped to assist.
We don’t have to do everything to do something that matters.
Make a little room
There is a particular kindness in giving someone time without making them feel they have stolen it. We can ask, ‘How are you?’ while our feet continue walking. It is an efficient system, although it does discourage an honest answer.
What happens when we stop?
Sometimes people begin to tell us what they have been carrying. Sometimes they simply enjoy being noticed. Imagine someone sitting alone after a difficult week. The telephone rings. A familiar voice says, ‘You came to mind. How are you really?’
Their circumstances may be unchanged when the call ends. But someone knows. Someone has listened. Perhaps there is now a plan to meet tomorrow.
We may be unable to lift someone’s burden, but we can help them feel less alone beneath it.
As November leads towards the celebrations ahead, there will be meals to arrange, events to attend and messages beginning, ‘Just a quick reminder.’
Perhaps we could prepare by leaving a little room. Room to notice. Room to listen. Room for a name to become a prayer and a prayer to become a phone call.
An interruption in our day may be an answer to someone else’s prayer.
Go and do the same
Jesus’ story invites a response.
Someone may already be coming to mind. We could send the message, knock on the door or offer the lift. We could ask a question and stay for the answer.
We do this as people who have received mercy ourselves. In Jesus, God came close to our brokenness. His costly love gives us both the reason and the strength to care for others.
The Samaritan probably had plans. What made him a neighbour was his willingness to change them. We remember him because, on a road where others kept walking, he stopped.
Make your plans. Leave room for mercy.
J.John
