My Samaria

Yesterday we were challenged to think about our personal "Samaria" (the group of people that would be least likely to ever get a visit from us).

The Jews had pretty good reasons to dislike the people of Samaria. After all, the Samaritans, because they'd intermarried, had mixed pagan idolatry with Jewish practices and customs. For years, Jews went out of their way to avoid these people. Then Jesus walked straight through! He didn't ignore the sin that was in the land, yet he loved the people and reached out to share the Living Water with them!

Later, Philip followed Christ's example, which resulted in many coming to know Christ.

So, have you thought about it? Have you answered the question: To whom are you unwilling to go?

I don't like to think that I've ever been unWILLING to go. 

Maybe unABLE. unQUALIFIED. unPREPARED. 

But unWILLING?

Seven years ago, I would have used these less abrasive "un" words to explain why I could not interact with drug and alcohol addicted prostitutes. But the truth was, I was unwilling to go. In my fear and insecurity I believed that someone else would surely be better equipped for the role. But the Holy Spirit was persistent, and now I spend time with these women every week sharing the truth of the gospel with them, the message that even in their sin, Christ died for them! And guess who gets the blessing every time?

I suppose I could become satisfied that I've been through a personal Samaria. But Acts 1:8 extends the invitation into the uttermost parts of the world. And oddly enough, many of those parts exist right here in my Jerusalem. 

Oh that we would all be bold and obedient to GO into all the world...ALL the world!

~Rebecca Phillips

No Lie

Who remembers that old Nazareth song "Love Hurts"?  It's not an encouraging number. From the anguished voice of the vocalist to the melancholy strains of the guitar, the song just oozes angst. But it is strangely appealing, pulling at the memory most of us have of some past hurt--either real or imagined.

One of the most pessimistic lines of the song is this: "Love is just a lie made to make you blue." Not very poetic or deep, but the tune got a lot of airplay, making it to number eight on the top 100 list in the spring of 1976. (You really have to see the expression on the guy's face as he sings. And the hair! But I digress.)

There's been a lot of talk about love recently, and I'm here to say a little more about it. A few years ago, I had the privilege of contributing to a devotional book called Love is a Verb. The idea of the book is, I believe, a biblical view that love is not how we feel but what we do--a behavior we decide on. That's not to say emotions aren't involved.  I certainly get a wonderful feeling from loving acts, and I am often inspired to loving actions by my emotions.

But sometimes I'm inspired to loving actions by scripture. The apostle Paul had a lot to say about motivation.  In his letter to the Romans, he exhorts the readers to "let love be without hypocrisy." He goes on to talk about "brotherly love" and "affection." The thrust of this whole chapter (12) is that we shouldn't think of ourselves as being better than others; instead, we offer ourselves as "a living sacrifice." 

What does such a sacrifice mean? Sometimes it means letting someone else choose the movie. It might mean digging a hole to help your neighbor plant a rose bush or putting down a book to talk to someone who needs a listening ear. It may mean something much bigger: a lifestyle change or a difficult stand for the truth.

In some of these cases, love might, indeed, hurt a little, but the end is so worth the sacrifice. And that is certainly not a lie.   

--Sherry Poff