The Lies We Tell Ourselves

I did not grow up in a culture that defined and labelled people by their skin colour, or their ethnicity, yet Britain is becoming increasingly intolerant towards those who are ‘foreign’. We who represent the body of Christ would do well to consider for ourselves the question who is my neighbour?


Very interesting post today over on Rachel Held Evans’ blog:


the man, wanting to justify himself, continued, “But who is my ‘neighbour’?”

And Jesus gave him the following reply: “A man was once on his way down from Jerusalem to Jericho. He fell into the hands of bandits who stripped off his clothes, beat him up, and left him half dead. It so happened that a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. A Levite also came on the scene and when he saw him, he too passed by on the other side. But then a Samaritan traveller came along to the place where the man was lying, and at the sight of him he was touched with pity. He went across to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put him on his own mule, brought him to an inn and did what he could for him. Next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper with the words, ‘Look after him, will you? I will pay you back whatever more you spend, when I come through here on my return.’ Which of these three seems to you to have been a neighbour to the bandits’ victim?”


“The man who gave him practical sympathy,” he replied. “Then you go and do the same,” returned Jesus.

Luke 10:29-37 (JB Phillips)

As you read this probably very familiar bible passage, and after you have read the guest post over on Rachel Held Evans’ blog, consider this: in the parable of the Good Samaritan, is it the Jew who took pity on the Samaritan, or the other way round? In other words, did the ‘privileged’ show compassion for the ‘oppressed’, or did the ‘oppressed’ show compassion for the ‘privileged’?