For years, a banner hung in the hallway at Family of God. It depicted a man in purple traveling clothes; an orange sash around his waist with red and green head covering. A fashion nightmare if you ask me.
He appears to be a kind, older man with a white beard, on his knees helping a young man on the ground. The young man is weak, bony, limp, stripped naked and barely breathing (if he was breathing). This kind old man gently places his hand on the back of the young man’s neck, his other hand on his chest. It is a beautifully intimate moment of one man caring for his brother.
Precisely the opposite of what is happening in the upper corner of this banner. Two men walk away and out of sight. One pretends he didn’t see the hurting man while the other stares right at the scene unfolding in front of him as he turns his camel around. Neither one of these men want anything to do with their Jewish comrade. Perhaps they were afraid of what they couldn’t see; the reason why this man was in such terrible condition. Maybe they were abiding by the temple rituals; getting blood on you meant a full ritual cleansing when they get back. It’s possible they had important meetings to get to. After all, priests and Levites have packed schedules. Church people are always busy.
But not the man in the purple robe. He tends to the dying man. He pours oil and wine to heal his wounds. He takes him to rest. He stays with him at the inn. He pays the debt. He truly is good (Luke 10:25-37).
This banner hangs to remind us of the ministry. A ministry that is drenched in the parables that Jesus shares of his compassion, love, and intentionality. A ministry that is founded upon intentional relationships and gut-wrenching love for our people. A ministry littered with people just like the young man in the banner, ravaged by a neighborhood that has made them bleed, chewed them up, and then spit them out. People left for dead.
Also drunk and passed out on the inside of the churches front door, like the young man this past Sunday. As he snored in his alcohol induced nap, I noticed dried blood on his arms and a black eye. When I got close to him, I had to keep myself from choking on the stench that exuded from him. I vividly recalled the scene on the Jericho road. I thought this is probably similar to the scene that the famous good Samaritan walked up on.
As people continued to step over him, careful not to kick his feet, I heard commentary about how disgraceful it was that he was “like THIS in church!” But Pastor Hill, Alex, and I didn’t mind. He was safe. Safe from the monsters in the neighborhood. So, we let him sleep. It would be but a few hours before he would have to go back to battle.
We gave him some water, made sure he was hydrated (properly), he sat in service and I made every attempt during the sermon to try to direct some of my points to him as he sauntered in and out of the room. About his Baptism and Jesus love for him. That the Holy Spirit and the forgiveness of his sins has been given to him in this sopping wet gift. He is drowning, not in the bottle, but in the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ.
As he walked away from church that day, I couldn’t help but picture this banner. Except that it wasn’t the man clothed in purple with orange, green, and red trimmings attending to the young man in our church. But a man in a white robe, a crown of thorns, scars in his wrists, side, and back. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who didn’t just “happen” to stumble upon this man, but sought him out intentionally. He gets on his knees, he binds his wounds, he pours out his body and his blood, he stays with him, he is his everlasting rest, and he pays the debt. This Jesus is this young, broken, sinful man’s good Samaritan.
And He’s yours too, intentionally seeking you.
Rev. Tyler Cronkright 