There is a commercial break in your favorite TV show. You seize the moment to round up a snack. Once in the kitchen you admire your food selection and speed of preparation; a stacked high sandwich, a piece of (still moist) chocolate cake and a tall, cool beverage. And now,Yikes, the realization that you have three things to carry and only two hands to carry them with. It would take too long to ferret out a tray so you compromise. The cake is shorter than the sandwich, less likely to topple – its plate gets to set on top of the drinking glass, the sandwich held in the free hand. You hear your show about to return to the airwaves, you spin
You are late for church. The speed limit gets a wee bit of a work out, and the STOP signs don’t get their full One Mississippi, Two Missi…. Oh, now a traffic signal looms on the horizon. Can you make it? Will it change to green when you need it to? As you get closer you can see that the perpendicular signal has changed to yellow – that means yours should change to green very soon. You could stay at speed (or a little faster) and zoom right through. Something makes you flinch; you tap the brake and begin slowing as if to stop, and WHOOOSH! The car approaching the yellow light must have also been late for something because the driver interpreted the intermediate caution light as HIT THE GAS so as to not be held up by a red light. Had you maintained your original intent, a crash would have been unavoidable. You get stopped in time and again mutter the words, “Whew! That was close.” Catastrophe avoided.
While returning to Galilee from Judea, Jesus did, in GPS language, some ‘recalculating’. He went through Samaria. Without delving too deeply into history or geography, suffice it to say – that was a no-no. He encounters a woman at a well. A woman whose life would never be the same again. He is where he is not supposed to be, doing something he is not supposed to do with someone he not supposed to do it with. He was a man, a Jew, talking to a woman, a Samaritan. I wonder if when the sun had set on the day, and she had had a chance to reflect on all that had taken place, which perhaps shouldn’t have taken place, if she thought to herself, “Whew! That was close.” A lifetime of ridicule and bitterness and not knowing God avoided.
I have two scars on my back. To the casual observer they are not un-alike. One is positioned directly over my spine – directly above the disc between the L4 and L5 vertebrae. It was put there by the skilled, caring hands of a surgical team determined, I would like to think, to give me back my life. The ruptured disc beneath had halted all meaningful existence. I think back on the decision that had to be made to ‘go under the knife.’ I was forty and had never been in the hospital. I played and re-played the surgeon’s words about medication and therapy and how surgery was probably the only real solution. Scared, I went forward. When I awoke from the operation and had no pain, when just a few days later I could walk, literally thousands of feet further than before, I knew that the decision had been the right one. I sometimes think back on that time painfully aware of how near I came to Plan B (which was no surgery) and say to myself, “Whew! That was close.” A life of pain and inactivity avoided.
The second scar actually took residence before the surgical scar. It is a little higher on my back and just about an inch from my spine. It came to be a part of my life when, at age twelve, while helping my dad with yard work at my grandparent’s house, I slipped and fell on a hatchet. I can’t see the scar. Occasionally while on a beach vacation my sons will mention it or while applying suntan lotion Kim will rub a finger over it and make a tut-tutting noise. I do think about it sometimes. Its nearness to my spine. Its potential to have wreaked havoc or killed. And I think, “Whew! That was close.” A life of paralysis avoided.
Attending a downtown church and in the off hours attempting to support a downtown economy, we have all been approached by individuals needing assistance. I know I have. And, much to my shame, I must say that I may have taken to an art-form the spotting up ahead of someone I think may be such a person and purposefully directing myself away. Judging, when I have no right to judge (not to mention the direct order to Judge Not…). I then smugly mutter to myself, “Whew! That was close.” Confrontation avoided. Oh, but wait. What else was avoided?
Rewind and don’t deviate. Don’t re-direct. To the casual observer two people are passing on the street. An entirely different thought process results in an entirely different outcome. Offer a kind word. Offer help if able. Show grace and kindness. A life of wondering if people care, if there is a God, if there is hope –avoided. “I almost didn’t get a chance to help him/her.” “Whew. That was close.”
Lord, help me - us – to step out of our comfort zone. To go through Samaria even though it may not be popular or proper. Let us show You to those around us. Amen.
He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)
Steve Matthews
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