“On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”
He answered, “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”
“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”
But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25-37 NIV)
“Who is my neighbor?” It’s hard to think of a more practical question for us today. “Who is my neighbor?” I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we people don’t treat each other very well! There are tensions everywhere between just about everybody. Tensions between white people and black people. Tulsa’s been at the center of that, right? Tensions between people who speak English and people who don’t. People who get vaccinated and people who don’t. People who like a politician and people who don’t. Anger. Rage. Bitterness. Who is my neighbor? Whom am I really supposed to love? Wouldn’t it be nice if Jesus were right here, and we could ask him?
A man did. A man got to ask Jesus that very question: “Who is my neighbor?” Actually, he asked a different question first. “An expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. ‘Teacher,’ he said, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?” That’s an important question! What must I do to get to heaven? I love Jesus’ answer: “What is written in the Law?” For every question, the best answer is: “What does the Bible say?” This expert in the law knew: “‘Love the Lord your God will all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind,’ and ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” “You have answered correctly,” Jesus said. “Do this and you will live.” If you want to earn your way to heaven, love God perfectly and love your neighbor as yourself.
And that man actually thought he was doing it. He was so arrogant that he actually thought he was that good. He just needed a little clarification. “He wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’” There had to be some kind of limit on the number of people he needed to love, right? “Let’s be realistic, Jesus. I can’t love everybody. Whom do I need to love?” We can imagine what he expected Jesus say. We limit the “who?” We love our friends. People like us. We limit the “when?” We love when people deserve it. We limit the “how much?” Not too much. There’s always a limit. “Jesus, who is my neighbor?” What’s the limit?
So Jesus told a story—a parable. “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers.” People knew exactly what Jesus was talking about. The road from Jerusalem to Jericho was only 17 miles, but it descended 3300 feet. A curvy, windy road through a rocky desert. A perfect place for robbers. The worst place to walk alone. “They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead.” That man needed a neighbor!
And there was hope! He heard footsteps. It was a priest. What luck! If anybody was going to help this hurt man, it was a priest, right? Like a pastor today. We like to think we’re pretty good. But “when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side.” Why? We can guess, because we’ve done the same thing. What excuses have you used? “He’s not my neighbor. It’s not safe. It’s not good timing. Someone else will help him out. It’s not my responsibility. He’s not my neighbor!”
Next, there came a Levite. Levites were people who worked at the temple, maybe like our elders or choir members today. He would stop, right? Nope, same thing. “When he came to the place and saw him, he passed by on the other side.” The “good” people, the people just like that expert in the law—the people just like you and me—wanted nothing to do with that hurt man.
But then a third guy came along—a Samaritan. When you hear the word Samaritan, you don’t think anything of it. But when a Jew heard the word Samaritan, his blood started to boil. The Jews and the Samaritans were enemies. They hated each other. In fact, in the previous chapter, some Samaritans refused to even let Jesus enter their town. There was that much racism! And do you know how James and John reacted? They said, “Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?” That’s what Jews thought of Samaritans. “God should just strike them dead!” So what was that Samaritan going to do? Kick him in the ribs? Throw sand in his eyes?
Nope. When the Samaritan “saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’” That’s a lot of stuff! The Samaritan didn’t think about race or money or danger. He didn’t think about the better things he had to do. He thought about that man and what he needed.
Then Jesus turned to that expert in the law and asked him, “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” Even that proud expert in the law had to say, “The one who had mercy on him.” The Samaritan. So Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” So what’s the answer? Remember the question? “Who is my neighbor?” What’s the answer? Everyone, including the people we’re most tempted to mistreat. If you’re white, that black person is your neighbor. If you speak English, those Hispanic immigrants are your neighbors. If you’re a Democrat, Republicans, and vice versa. It doesn’t matter if they look like you or think like you or even believe like you. Whoever that person is, he or she is my neighbor.
Have you loved your neighbor as yourself? The truth is, the parable of the Good Samaritan isn’t a feel-good story. Jesus told this parable to put that man in his place. To show him that he wasn’t as good as he thought he was. To let us know that we don’t love as we need to love. I was talking with one of you this week, and you said something so perceptive. “The more I read the Bible, the more I realize I’m not as good as I thought I was.” That’s the truth! The Bible shows us that we’re not as good as we think we are. Can you admit that? I don’t love my neighbor as myself.
Here’s what that means: I can’t earn eternal life. Remember how all this actually started? That man’s first question was, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Remember the answer? If you want to earn eternal life, love God perfectly and love your neighbor as yourself. Have you done that? No way! Me neither. Do we deserve to go to heaven? Nope. Not even close. We’re sinful. We’re broken. We’ve been overpowered again and again by the devil. Who could love us?
When you hear the story of the Good Samaritan, it’s hard not to think of someone: Jesus. We were on the side of the road, beaten up, helpless, hopeless. You know what that feels like. There was nothing we could do to save ourselves. But Jesus didn’t pass us by. He came near. In fact, Jesus became one of us—a human being. He picked up our sins. He picked up our burdens. He shouldn’t have. We were enemies. But even though we don’t deserve it, Jesus had compassion on you and me. He loved us even more than himself. You and I can say, “Jesus is my Neighbor!”
When we were helpless and dying by the side of the road, Jesus gave up his own life to save us. Earlier, we heard these words: “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). That’s amazing! Every limit that we place on loving others, Jesus completely ignored. Whom did Jesus love? Every single person in the world. When? When we least deserved it. At what cost? His life. There are no limits to Jesus’ grace.
That’s hard to believe, isn’t it? So Jesus proved it over and over again. Remember when the little children came running up to Jesus? The disciples told them to go away. But Jesus took them in his arms and blessed them. Remember when the demon-possessed man ran up to Jesus dirty and naked and crazy? No one wanted anything to do with him. But Jesus drove out the demons and said: “Go, tell what God has done for you.” Remember when that old widow put her last two little pennies into the offering plate? The people snickered. But Jesus smiled and said: “This poor widow has put in more than all the others.” Remember when the Pharisees dragged a woman caught in adultery before Jesus, eager to stone that sinner for what she had done? But Jesus said, “Let him who has no sin cast the first stone.” And she watched in amazement as everyone left. Jesus spent his whole life loving people who weren’t lovable. Jesus is the perfect Neighbor.
And then there was that guy on the cross, hanging next to Jesus. Remember him? He was as despicable as any person could be. But when he said to Jesus, “Remember me,” he heard, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Jesus loved that man even more than he loved himself. He loved him so much that he died for him so that he could be in heaven with Jesus. Just like Jesus loves you even more than he loves himself. So much so that he died to forgive every time you and I have failed to love. That man’s question was wrong: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Eternal life isn’t ours because of what we do. It’s ours because Jesus loved us so much.
That love changes you. When that adulterous woman realized she wasn’t being stoned, what do you think she did? If that thief had the chance to come down from the cross, what do you think he would have done? When that man the good Samaritan helped got better, what do you think he did? Jesus’ love changes us. It compels us to love our neighbors—whoever they are. “We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19). You can’t be a neighbor until you are neighbored by Jesus. But once you know Jesus, he fills you with the fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23).
That makes Christians different. Long ago, in 360 A.D., a man named Julian became the Roman emperor. Julian had one goal: Stop Christianity and get everyone to worship the pagan gods of Rome again. But there was a problem: The Christians were too kind. Emperor Julian—the most powerful man in the world—actually wrote a letter to a friend in which he said, “The kindness of Christians to strangers…has done the most to advance their cause.” He went on to complain that Christians cared for pagans—for unbelievers—better than the pagans cared for themselves. What a complaint! “Those Christians are so kind, we can’t get people to stop being Christians.” Yes!
So, friends, be neighbors. That doesn’t mean you should drive around in the middle of the night looking for whomever you can find. It means seeing everyone God places in your life as your neighbor. Family members—“my neighbor.” The people who live close to you—“my neighbor.” But it doesn’t stop there. The people who look different from you. The people who sin in ways you don’t. The people who love things you hate—“my neighbor.” Loving them doesn’t mean that they’re right. It doesn’t mean that their lifestyle is acceptable or good. Loving them means that God loves you, because “we love because he first loved us.” Whoever it is—“my neighbor!”
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