‘…and your neighbor as yourself.’ Luke10:25-28

Love God.

Love neighbor.

Change the world.

Sounds good—even easy—when you first hear Jesus answering the lawyer’s question about finding eternal life.

The lawyer knows the right answer. I know the right answer. Maybe you do, too.

And even if I could love God every moment, seeking to follow and share God’s love twenty-four-seven, I know I will fail on the “neighbor” half of the equation.

I want to be that person, but I’m just not. I try, over and over. Sometimes I get it right. But sometimes I turn my back because—why?—they’re on the wrong side of the street. Inconvenient.

My church is looking to start a food pantry. I’m not sure what the schedule will be. I’ll wait and see. But what about the people who are hungry today?

That guy on the street corner. He looks too clean, probably a fake, there to take advantage.

So, in the course of a day, a month, a year, I talk myself out of any responsibility for some of my neighbors.

And then I recall kindnesses done for me at a cost to the kindness-doer.

Fifty years ago, I ran out of gas on Interstate 10, heading to work. I was driving my new-to-me Fiat 124, and had yet to master the fuel reading. You know, when it’s on E, how much farther could I go?

As I pulled over to the side I wondered: Could I have found a more isolated spot to be stranded?

Wait, a car is pulling over. Praying it’s the Good Samaritan and not the Boston strangler, I held my hand out with a fuel can in it.

The man seemed nice. I gave him all my money—$2—and off he went.

Time slowed to a standstill. Was he coming back? Why was I so gullible? This guy could be miles down the highway.

I sat in the driver’s seat and waited.

Then, there he was. Pulling his car in behind mine, he opened the gas can and began to pour it into my thirsty little tank.

It was all so quick, then he was gone, and I was on my way to work.

But for fifty-plus years, I have carried this story with me, solid proof of the kindness of strangers, that good exists, and to try to be a blessing myself whenever I can. Oh, and to not let the needle even get close to E.

CreditChatGPT for artwork