the loving thing in these perilous times

As Sofie and I trod on through the horrifying details and stories of World War 2, she has been reading some of the very best books. 

Reading with Sofie at the helm is more like an excruciating gym class that requires every ounce of my patience--she is upsidedown, flailing across the carpet, hanging in the trees, reading in various terrible accents, singing the passages, stopping between each line to pick her toes or ask a totally unrelated question about her weight on the moon or about whether a lynx or a narwhal would make a better pet. 

But as we've been reading The Winged Watchman together about a family in Holland trying to survive through brutal German occupation and risking their lives to raise Jewish children as their own and hiding Jewish neighbors, Allies and friends--she's been hanging on every word, and I have been, too.

The quiet voice of the wise priest--preaching simply to the faithful little congregation and several disguised Allie soldiers--has been echoing in my mind and heart all week.  

Father Kobus read out the Gospel of the Good Samaritan.

Then he said, "I know what you're all thinking, when you hear this parable of the Samaritan who was the only one to help his neighbor. 'That wicked priest, that selfish Levite! We would never be like them!'

"But you're wrong. All around us these days, people are beset by robbers. How many of you turn away, saying, 'It is too dangerous to help,' or 'I've my own problems,' or 'I've a family to consider.' 

"Perhaps you are right. But perhaps the priest and the Levite had valid reasons for hurrying on, too. Christ does not say they hadn't. He only says that it was the Samaritan, the heretic, the outcast, who did the loving thing.

"Religion is not just a matter of going to church. We must love God with our whole strength and all our mind, and our neighbor as ourselves. It is upon what we do to our neighbor that we shall be judged, a solemn thought. Now, let us pray that we may receive strength to do the loving thing in these perilous times."

Joris knelt down, thinking now that Mother and Father and Uncle Cor need not worry. They were helping their neighbors with all their strength, come what may.

How often do my completely valid thoughts put me in the Levite camp? 

How often do I have good reasons to be too hesitant to do the loving thing? 

Too busy to act and speak with love? Too concerned about my children's welfare than to think of another's? 

Too dangerous to get involved? Too ugly to stop? Too inconvenient, too uncomfortable, too beyond help, too much for me? Better for someone else? Ill-equipped? Not today? Not this person? Not here?

Father Kobus was right...I AM wrong, siding with the Samaritan when I read the parable, yet abandoning him often when I'm on the road. 

Surely the Love the Lord is asking is extreme....stop what you're doing? drop all your plans? pour out all your oil and wine? cross all the cultures? physically pick up the bloody? give up your ride? fork over your funds? spend the night? drag in others? invest in however long it takes? leave whatever you had left behind for a stranger?

Surely the Love the Lord is asking here is extreme...

...and surely also the love He modeled.