Thursday, December 16, 2010

The Misguided Samaritan

Originally published on the Musings Blog

The priest and the Levite may have gotten a bum rap! I refer to the story Jesus told of the two religious leaders who passed a wounded traveler on the side of the road apparently without offering any help. A well intentioned Samaritan comes along and helps the man by bandaging him up, taking him to an inn, and paying his expenses. Jesus makes the Samaritan the hero of this story. But could it be the Samaritan settled for meeting an immediate need while ignoring the scope of the real need?
Consider: Should the Samaritan really have stopped? Was that really the most strategic use of his time? Maybe the Samaritan didn’t really care. Maybe he just wanted to do that which is easiest and leave the bigger problem for others.
If the Samaritan really cared about roadside assistance, would it not have been more effective to organize an emergency roadside assistance response team, train them in how to care for those in trouble on the road, and send them out to help each and every person traveling and not just the one? Was this man somehow more worthy than the many others who travel and find themselves in need? Is it right to ignore the scope of the need while tending to the one?
How do we know that the priest or the Levite, in response to a heartfelt compassion for the wounded man, didn’t organize a fund raising dinner in the next town in order to fund an emergency roadside assistance team? Could it be their experience in leading organizations gave them an appreciation for strategic thinking which helped them think outside the box of how you would normally help someone dying on the side of the road? Could it be their vision for helping victims of robbers far exceeded that of the Samaritan?
Isn’t it likely that the priest and Levite possessed some discernment that the Samaritan lacked – they saw that this man was too beaten and hurting to be of any help in reaching others. He didn’t appear to be an influencer (apparently he was traveling alone), and it would take some time before he was in any kind of shape to help other roadside victims. Clearly it’s a better use of resources to leave cases such as this one to those with the proper medical training. The priest and Levite may very well have understood that leaders work with sharp people in order to multiply their influence and make a greater impact. In this way all victims of roadside robbers can be reached, not just a few here and there.
I used to feel guilty for passing stranded motorist on the side of the road. But now that I’ve reflected more deeply on this story I’ve seen that me stopping to help would only be a hindrance to the greater cause of Christ as I would be distracted from the strategic mission God has called me to.
So let’s call him the Nice Samaritan, or the Well-Intentioned Samaritan, but not the Good Samaritan. Clearly he didn't care enough to be called good. It seems all he cared about was the fact that the man had a need and he was in a position to meet that need. Such pious and simplistic “love your neighbor as yourself” kind of thinking will never cut it if we’re serious about reaching the world for Christ.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Who's the Grinch?

Pastor Robert Jeffress of First Baptist Church Dallas has started a website (www.grinchalert.com) where you can report businesses that refuse to say, "Merry Christmas." From the website:
... you can nominate businesses and organizations that shut-out expressions of Christmas in their interactions with the public via marketing, advertising and public relations. When companies use misplaced political correctness to halt the celebration of Christmas, they belong on the “Naughty List.”
I’m starting a new website – ScroogeAlert.com that allows users to share their experiences with churches that shut-out expressions of the gospel in their interactions with the community via marketing, advertising, and public relations. When churches use a misplaced emphasis on the culture war to put up barriers to the gospel, they belong on the “Bah Humbug List.”

Not everyone at First Baptist is on board with Pastor Grinch Jeffress - you can read more here.

What If Ice Cream Cost You Your Vision?

(Originally published on the Musings Blog on 5.4.2005)
I really like ice cream. My favorite treat is a warm brownie (thin, slightly under baked) under several scoops of Blue Bell ice cream. I can taste it now.
But what if I knew that for every bowl of ice cream I enjoyed I would lose 1% of my vision? My initial response would be to swear off ice cream completely – my vision is way too important to throw away on a short-lived pleasure.
I suspect after awhile I would wonder if it were really true – does ice cream really cause me to lose vision, or did someone make that up to keep me from getting fat? Eventually I would try it out. I would eat some ice cream and then look at some words to see if they were blurry. I’m guessing I would see just fine – one percent wouldn’t make that much difference. But just to be safe, I would only have ice cream once a month.
After a year of ice cream that amounted to a 12% loss in vision, I think I would notice a difference. In a blurry street sign I would see some consequences of my indulgence. The eye doctor would change my prescription and I would have to get new glasses. And then I would see clearly again.
In seeing clearly again I wonder if I would be tempted to eat just a little ice cream, since the consequences appear manageable. In fact, eating just a little ice cream would still leave me many years before losing my eyesight completely. Stronger prescriptions, laser eye surgery, and eventually a walking stick or seeing eye dog … I’m adaptable, I think I could still make life work.
Sometimes I wonder if little acts of sin smudge the window of my soul. I confess, ask for God’s cleansing and all, but while I’m confident of restored fellowship with God, I wonder if I’ve lost something I can’t fully recover?

Monday, December 13, 2010

He Knows My Name

Growing up in Texas you are taught early and often the importance of God, family, and football, not necessarily in that order. Communities around the state gather each Friday night at their local stadiums for a fellowship, if not worship, that often surpasses that which takes place Sunday morning.

I played for a legend, Coach Tom Kimbrough. Coach Kimbrough came out of the Tom Landry school of coaching: he didn't yell a lot, but when he spoke, you listened. He commanded your attention and respect. I'll attempt to describe in a later post the impact Coach Kimbrough has made on my life. For now, let me describe the first time I talked to him.

It was the Spring of my sophomore year. Back then no one played for Plano Senior High School until your junior year, so your first taste of Plano football came in the Spring of your sophomore year during offseason workouts. We were nervous that first day - Plano offseason workouts were legendary. Players would go on to play Division I football and consistently report back that never did they practice as hard as they did at Plano. Beyond the challenge of the workouts was the awesome prospect of stepping on the same field as those coaches and players we revered.

We sprinted to the practice field, nearly hyperventilating with nerves. Coaches barked directions to a confused group of sophomores just hoping to survive their first workout. Early in the workout during one drill Coach Kimbrough approached me. This in and of itself froze me in place. Then he addressed me personally for the first time in a distinctive east Texas accent I can still hear, "Now David, when you're ..." I can't report the rest of the what he said, for despite my deep respect and my fear of messing up, I didn't hear another word, I couldn't get beyond one thought that reverberated over and over in my mind:
He knows my name. How does he know my name. This is Coach Kimbrough. I'm a skinny sophomore. How does he know my name?
Something changed that day. I was still in awe of playing for Coach Kimbrough, I still felt a rising tension in my gut each day as I watched the last minutes of the last class tick away before practice, but that day I was welcomed on the team. I belonged. I was known.

I think something similar happens with Jesus. You can know about Him, respect Him, even listen to Him, but something changes when you realize, when you believe, Jesus knows your name. When He speaks, He speaks to you, personally. Until then religion is a lot of work without much meaning.

"Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine!" Is. 43:1