The Not So Good Samaritan

Several years ago while on a bike-trip across Idaho, I encountered a man on an overpass above an interstate. He looked worn as he stood next to a rickety, old grocery cart.

I had my destination in mind. There were many miles to go and a lot of hills in between.

I asked, “How are you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, turned his hands, and without a word indicated, “Not so good.”

I kept pedaling thinking, There’s nothing I can do for him, plus I had someplace to reach before the sun set.

It wasn’t only my feet that were pedaling as I cycled away. My heart and mind raced as well. God’s Spirit convicted me, reminding me of the Parable of the Good Samaritan. The priest probably wondered, “What can I do?” The Levite probably had someplace to be as well.

Then I remembered Matthew 25:

“For I was hungry and you gave Me nothing to eat; I was thirsty and you gave Me nothing to drink; I was a stranger and you didn’t take Me in; I was naked and you didn’t clothe Me, sick and in prison and you didn’t take care of Me.’ “Then He will answer them, ‘I assure you: Whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for Me either.’” (Matthew 25:42-43, 45 HCSB)

I knew in that moment, the man with the rusty grocery cart was Jesus, and I pedaled on by.

I prayed, “Lord, teach me and help me to never pass someone by again.“

I traveled three hundred miles across barren desert, dotted with small-town stops on that seven-day trip. I began the trip thinking, I love time alone. However, once I got it, I desperately wanted to connect with somebody. Anybody! The highlight of my day was finding someone who would talk to me.

I ended the trip earlier than expected and went back to Boise. One hot, 100 degree day I walked to the grocery store. Outside the store a man covered in tattoos with a hiking pack on his back dug through the dumpster.

I walked by.

The automatic doors of the store pulled open. A wall of cool air and a thought hit me simultaneously.

That was Jesus. You know what it’s like to feel alone. There’s something you can do.

I turned around and saw the man sitting on a bench, arranging his pack.

I approached and asked, “How are you?”

He replied, “Ok. Do you have any spare change?”

“No,” I answered, “but can I get you something in the store?”

He asked for water, so I obliged.

About ten minutes later, I returned with the water bottle and handed it to the man.

I thought, Andrew, there’s more you can do.

I sat down. I didn’t rush away. We started talking. His name was Bryce. He told me he had followed “Mr. Brown” (heroine) from Chicago, to Portland and now to Boise. He was currently clean, trying to get his daughter back who lived with her grandmother in town. We talked for about 20 minutes. I asked Bryce if I could pray for him.

He said, “Yes, please.”

With my hand on his shoulder, we bowed our heads together as I prayed.

I met Jesus that day. I didn’t pass him by. He didn’t need anything from me. He just wanted to talk.

The Thrill of Disappointment

The lights were on. The chairs laid out. The sermon practiced and prepared. All of this, and only one person came. This happened many years ago, but I still remember. It’s branded in my brain as not exactly a church-planting victory.

I remember thinking, “What can we do?”

We had two choices—either to quit or to make the best of it. We decided for the latter. The two of us sat in the cold, empty New York storefront and searched the Word of God. We found a special phrase in Isaiah. “One shall become a thousand” (Isaiah 60:22).

Somehow, those words stirred a spirit of faith in us. Thrilled, we claimed that verse. And despite the earlier disappointment, our excitement grew.

What I didn’t know at the time was the one person who had come to service that day—a man with a long history of alcoholism—would succeed in recovery and be a powerful leader in our group. He would mentor many young men and help our storefront church be the springboard for many churches.

Our gatherings grew as we helped start other churches. In all, we surpassed far more than a thousand. What I didn’t know at the time was that one man would bless so many. But he did.

We often misinterpret a verse in the Bible. We say where “two or more” are gathered together, there Christ will be. It’s Matthew 18:20. However, the Bible says “where two or three” are gathered together. Three is still small; it’s certainly smaller than “more.” Perhaps Jesus sets the limit at three because, once there are more than three people, we feel the need to have structure like committees and task teams.

But ministry-based church planting is about blessing many and investing in few. For example, at the beginning of one chapter, Jesus is feeding over five thousand people. At the end of the same chapter, even the twelve might leave (John 6). And many times in the New Testament, Jesus is spending time with only three people—Peter, James and John.

After a big event, we may get discouraged if only a few people accept Christ. But we can’t quit! In fact, we should be encouraged to continue ministry. The rhythm of the Bible follows the same pattern we often mislabel as a struggle. Small is big!

As we learn in the Bible, ministry is often to bless the many whether through feeding thousands in meal-packing or in providing back packs and other necessities. Ministry is also to invest in the few. Things don’t stop with the few; In fact, it has been our experience that starting with a few is a way to reach many. Investing in the few sometimes develops leaders who bless far more people than we could ever imagine. Therefore, finding ways to meet in small groups is beneficial to ministry and follows the same idea Jesus had with His disciples.

Whether it is only five pieces of bread or a few people, in the Bible small is actually big. I am thrilled I didn’t quit when only one person showed up.

Talk is Cheap

We all heard the phrase as a kid, “I’m rubber, you’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you!” Equally as prevalent, spoken to console the not-so-rubbery child, is the phrase, “Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words will never hurt you.”

Let’s be honest. This talk is pretty cheap. These clichés are about the same as putting a bandaid on a stab wound. Words hurt, sometimes surprisingly so.

The Bible tells us this in the book of Proverbs. It says, “The tongue has the power of life and death” (Proverbs 18:21).

Words can tear down, but they can also build up.

In the 80s, two research psychologists documented the power of words in a child’s life. Betty Hart and Todd Risley were inquisitive about the achievement gap between low-income children and children of more advantageous backgrounds. To investigate, they studied 42 families divided into three groups—professionals, working class, and low-income. Their data showed, on average, by age four, children in professional families heard 30 million more words than children in low-income families.

Beyond the quantity of words, their data showed a striking difference in the quality of words. Whereas children in professional families heard 500,000 encouragements compared to 80,000 discouragements, children in low-income families heard 80,000 encouragements compared to 200,000 discouragements.

The results of their study were published in the book Meaningful Differences in the Everyday Experience of Young American Children. Their findings, which have been dubbed the “30 Million Word Gap,” clearly show the power of words.

Children need words—some of them need 30 million more words than what they’ve heard!

Of course, kids hear plenty of words on phones, tablets, and television. However, the same study showed that those words don’t have the same impact as a living, breathing, person.

Children need “the word to be flesh, and dwell among them!” They need someone to read with them, someone to ask questions of them, someone to lift them up rather than tear them down, someone to remind them they are beautiful.

When serving children in challenging communities, programs always need more . . .more money, more volunteers, more space, more help. One thing though there is no short supply of is words. A careful steward of his or her words may not change the whole world, but he or she can change a child’s world, one word at a time.

Perhaps talk isn’t that cheap after all.