By James Murdock

The Gospel of Luke contains the story of the Good Samaritan (10:25-37). This is no mysterious section of Scripture, but a story many have heard countless times before. The story on the surface is basic: Jesus is sitting with a man discussing issues of race, religion, ethics, and morality. Jesus answers a few of the man’s direct questions, but begins to really teach when he lays out a scenario very familiar to the man—since it was a common situation in their world.

While walking down the street, a man was brutally attacked, choked, pinned down, shot, stabbed, spit on, humiliated, stripped of dignity, and relieved of his possessions before being left bleeding and unconscious in the middle of the road for four hours.

Many people passed by the scene, including a local pastor traveling to heal a small child in a nearby town. The pastor considered his options and opted to pass by the man without breaking his stride. Later, an elder rushed by on her way to a council meeting, and after measuring her schedule against the distance she still had to travel, she also passed by the man without stopping.

Much later, a random passerby from a tribe of people not unfamiliar with scenes like these happened upon the man. He had just left church, where the congregation had been studying the subjects of grace and social justice, and the man recognized that God was present in this moment. Taking heed of the Gospel message, the church member picked up the broken man and carried him to safety. Giving away all that he had in his own possession, he left the man at a local church and continued on his way in search of more opportunities to do God’s will.

The story ends with Jesus asking a difficult question: In this neighborhood, who responded according to the Spirit of faith, hope, and love?

This question still lingers as it rings out in the mind’s eye of our world today.

As all of us are overtly aware, the headlines over the past few months have had an overarching theme of violence. They include the events of Ferguson, Missouri and McKinney, Texas, church pews in Charleston, flag poles flying over buildings in the lower southern states, the walls of Facebook pages referencing the cover of Vanity Fair magazine, and people struggling with racial and sexual identity.

The fires of hatred and vitriol seem far from extinguished as we look further down the road. And the street we travel is littered with the bodies of victims. The heat of the arguments on equality will reach our own church doorsteps on many different fronts.

The decisions of the Supreme Court on the legality of same-sex marriage are becoming more pervasive an issue as seen on our local nightly news segments. Assuredly the incidents, under the purveyance of hate crimes, will become more and more prevalent when homosexual men and women enter into light of day, from the shadows where they felt they had to hide. It does not seem likely that these men and women will find overwhelming love and acceptance as they take center stage in our courthouses to file for their certificates of marriage.

So too will our own denomination be on display as the delegations from the General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists decide on the direction of the world church regarding the ordination of women. Lines will be drawn in the sand. There will be suffering. People will be harmed. Which is why this section of Scripture stands out so strongly. The question that Jesus poses, “Which of these do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the attackers?” is still worth being addressed, questioned, discussed, and answered every time we look at our news feeds and Facebook pages, and whenever we engage in private conversations or public debates.

The question remains the same, but the neighborhood has changed. Our world is not the same. Originally, the question was posed around faceless robbers. Today, we wrestle with more than just common thieves, but also with law enforcement. Sworn men and women of the law who face moments of fear and violence have seemingly taken their power too far. Issues go beyond those of city versus city or church versus church, but black versus white, culture versus culture, Republican versus Democrat, human versus human.

No longer is it just what the eye can see. The neighborhood has changed. It is because of this shift that we must be willing to take a closer look at ourselves in light of the situations experienced on the road to Jericho and on the streets of Ferguson.

On the surface, we assign systems of thought to each character as they encounter the scene that Jesus lays out. We are quick to judge the priest and the Levite for carelessly traipsing past the poor battered man. But we must not forget that the priest and the Levite did not end their stories there.

The priest went on to forgive sins, baptize believers in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, say grace, give Bible studies, conduct weddings, minister over funerals, preach the Gospel, give to the poor, tend to the weak, give hope to the lost, and love as Jesus loved him.

We must not forget that the Levite went on to care for the Sanctuary and those who came into its open doors, looked after the priests, ministered before the people on how to keep the covenant laws, exemplified the guidelines on how to maintain the tents, watched over the sacred altars, offered himself as a gift to God’s ministry, and assisted those who wished to bring an offering to God’s temple.

These were not bad people. These were good people, God’s people, people in need of forgiveness for their transgressions. When taken with a surface understanding of God’s movement in this world, this story truly is nothing out of the ordinary.

But the people of the Seventh-day Adventist Church are not a people with a surface understanding of God’s actions and will for this world! We are a people rich in faith, strong in Scriptural comprehension, draped in intelligence, aware of our salvation by grace, and blessed with the message of salvation by a loving God. In this knowledge of faith, hope, and love, we must also recognize our own need for forgive- ness. And with it comes recognition of our own similarities to all of the characters in this story.

We have all been the priest.
We have all been the Levite.
We strive to be like the Good Samaritan.
The richness of this story comes only from the inclusion of priests, Levites, and Samaritans. The story is complete in the entire cast of characters. We have failed to see that God used every one of them for good in the end.

Even the men of ill intent. For it was their actions that led a world to believe in good even in the face of such evil. If brought into our neighborhoods, the story could play out like this for us today:

Dylan Roof, the shooter of nine members of the Charleston church prayer group, was going down from the Conference office, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. . . . Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, the perpetrator of the Boston Marathon bombings, was crossing the street just outside of your church, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. . . . Caitlyn Jenner, leaving from a local town hall meeting, fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped her, beat her, and went away, leaving her half dead. . . .

Place anyone into this list and see if the story remains the same. Officer Daniel Pantaleo, the officer who placed Eric Garner in a fatal chokehold. . . . Abdullah Ahmed Abdullah, atop the FBI’s Most Wanted Terrorists list. . . .Officer Darren Wilson, the officer charged with fatally shooting Michael Brown. . . . James Holmes, the Aurora Theater shooter. . . .

What would our response be?

Would we cross the street and shield our eyes when these events happen before us? If we believe this does not concern us, we may fail to see that God is about to do something brilliant that we are afraid to witness.

We need to spend time talking about these things. Yes, racism is messy.
Yes, violence is scary.
Yes, the Constitution is controversial.

Yes, issues of gender equality are volatile.
Yes, issues of homosexuality are divisive.
Yes, issues of gender and race reassignment are turbulent.
And yes, forgiveness is emotional.
But we cannot afford to look away from the changes in our neighborhood any longer. When we avoid the conversation, tension builds.

When the victim is no longer a stranger.

So, church, let us engage in this world with the same passion we bring to the preservation of our own personal faith. In order to truly protect this house, we ought not build a fence around the perimeter. But instead, fling the doors open wide and experience whatever God has planned to send our way.

Someday, someone will fling open our doors when we are not expecting it. Into our sanctuary, they will drag a lifeless body in need of immediate assistance; someone the pastoral staff will know because they saw him on their way to a Bible study and couldn’t stop, someone the elders know by recognition because they spotted him while running late for a meeting. He will be known by his transgressions and be considered untouchable.

Let us not be caught surprised or unprepared when it is our turn to respond. Let us prepare by opening ourselves to the emotional, divisive, volatile, controversial, scary, and messy experiences so that when the day comes and it is our time to act, we won’t have to stop short of action in order to start the conversation we were too afraid to have.

God has a plan for all of us.

Sometimes we find ourselves as part of the scenery of something greater than just passing through unaware of what God is currently working on through us.

Sometimes that means we are the priest or the Levite.

Sometimes it means we are overtaken by people of ill intent.

Sometimes it means we are the reason for another’s pain and suffering.

Sometimes it means we are being called to do something far greater than expected.

So if you ever find yourself surrounded by people of ill intent, fear not, for God is working something greater than you could imagine.

If you ever find yourself as the person of ill intent, just know you are not the end of the story. God is there working for good even when you are not. If you ever find yourself just passing through and wondering whatever happened to the man fallen behind and forgotten, know that God has taken care far beyond what you had expected or were capable of at the time. If you ever find yourself unable to pass by the moment because of the tug on your heart to act rather than look away, then hold on tight because God is about to use you in a way you have been preparing for your whole life.

To be this kind of church. To be this kind of people.

It will mean that we will need to stand tall against the waves of adversity.

It will mean holding the tough conversations and asking the tough questions. The questions become: Where will you be when crisis hits? What will your church do when it comes to your doors? How will you respond when it’s your turn to walk upon the scene?

If nothing else, I would hope that we all agree . . . it’s something worth talking about.

James Murdock was associate pastor for youth at Boulder Adventist Church until August 2015. This article is based on a sermon he preached on June 27, 2015.